3  4'^- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  02560  5627 


N 


THE   NOVELS   OF 
IVAN    TURGENEV 


THE    NOVELS    OF 

n^\N    TUROENRV 

I. 

RUDIN. 

II. 

A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK. 

III. 

ON  THE  EVE. 

IV. 

FATHERS  AND  CHILDREN. 

V. 

SMOKE. 

VI.  &  VII. 

VIRGIN  SOIL.      2  vols. 

VIII.&IX. 

A  sportsman's  SKETCHES.    2  vols. 

X. 

DREAM  TALES  AND  PROSE  POEMS. 

XI. 

THE  TORRENTS  OF  SPRING,  ETC. 

XII. 

A  LEAR  OF  THE  STEPPES. 

XIII. 

THE    DIARY    OF   A    SUPERFLUOUS 

MAN,  ETC. 

XIV. 

A  DESPERATE  CHARACTER,  ETC. 

XV. 

THE  JEW,  ETC. 

LONDON:    WILLIAM   HEINEMANN 

NEW  YORK  :  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

THE    NOVELS    OF 

IVAN    TURGENEV 

LIBRARY     EDITION 


A  HOUSE  OF 
GENTLEFOLK 

TRANSLATED 
FROM    THE    RUSSIAN    BY 
CONSTANCE     GARNETT 


LONDON:   WILLIAM  HEINEMANN 

NEW  YORK :  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
MCMXX 


Firtt  Published,  i8(;4. 

Reprinted  jgoo,  tgo^. 

Limited  Edition,  i-;o6. 
Large  Type  Fine-Paper  Edition,  крод. 
Reprinted,  igii,  igrj,  igij,  1917,  iQiQ. 

Library  Edition,  ig20. 


All  rjshts  reserved. 


INTRODUCTION 

A  House  of  Gentlefol}^  seems  for  many  years 
to  have  been  a  favourite  with  the  English- 
speaking  public,  and  is  considered  by  many  to 
be  Turgenev's  best.  One  might  not  perhaps 
quarrel  with  this  view  if  he  had  not  written 
Fathers  and  Children,  But  even  that  great 
novel,  which  Turgenev  himself  considered  his 
best,  does  not  exhibit  to  the  same  extent  some 
of  his  finest  qualities.  One  does  not  find  in 
Fathers  and  Children  anything  that  can  be  com- 
pared with  the  scene  on  the  seat  in  the  Kali- 
tins'  garden,  or  Lavretsky's  visit  to  the  garret 
of  the  old  musician,  and  the  whole  of  Lavret- 
sky's love-story.  It  would  be  difficult  to  point 
in  any  literature  to  anything  so  poetical,  so 
deeply  pathetic,  and  so  delightfully  simple. 
But  Turgenev  has  created  so  many  exquisite 
love-stories,  each  perfect  in  its  way,  that  one 
cannot  put  one  above  another — it  must  be  left 
to  individual  taste. 

The  marvellous  delineation  of  the  two  chief 
b  V 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

characters,  and  of  Panshin,  Lavretsky's  wife, 
and  Lisa's  mother  atid  aunt,  all  portraits  stand- 
ing out  complete,  beautifully  balanced  and 
contrasting ;  and,  above  all,  the  intensely 
dramatic  character  of  the  story — such  are 
the  beauties  of  the  novel,  which  cannot  be  a 
matter  of  individual  taste. 

But  I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  artistic  quali- 
ties of  the  story  ;  I  wiil  speak  more  fully  upon 
its  social  and  historical  significance,  which  is 
great,  though  not  so  apparent  as  in  Fathers 
and  Children, 

Л  House  of  Gentlefolk  is  a  sequel  to  Dmitri 
Rudin,  an  advance  upon  it  embodying  its  con- 
trast. We  are  in  quite  a  different  world. 
From  the  stuffy  attics  of  students,  from  the 
circle  of  solitary  enthusiasts,  who  were  the 
bearers  of  the  seeds  of  the  future,  we  are  trans- 
ported at  one  stroke  to  the  green  fields  of 
Russia,  which  it  was  the  task  of  these  devoted 
sowers  of  the  earlier  generation  to  fructify  with 
toil  and  unnoticed,  unshared  sufferings.  In  a 
sense  the  novel  might  have  been  called  Virgin 
Soil,  with  more  reason  than  the  later  story  of 
Turgenev's,  to  which  he  gave  that  title.  It  is 
a  living  picture  of  that  huge,  responsive,  fresh 
Russia,  hardly  touched  by  civilisation,  upon 
which  the  Rudins,  the  Pokorskys,  and  the 
Lezhnyovs  had  to  work.  True,  all  the  acting 
vi 


INTRODUCTION 

characters  of  the  story,  as  well  as  a  crowd  of 
others  who  pass  in  procession  across  the  back- 
ground, belong  to  the  *  nobility.'  But  in  Russia 
this  class  differs  widely,  owing  to  its  numbers 
and  historical  functions,  from  the  nobility  of 
the  rest  of  Europe.  Until  quite  recent  times 
it  was  the  only  class  open  to  the  civilising 
influences  of  the  West,  and  it  still  presents 
extreme  variations  in  the  degree  of  its  actual 
culture. 

In  his  first  novel  Turgenev  shows  us  that 
small  section  of  it  which  had  absorbed  more 
of  Western  learning  and  ideas  than  was  good 
for  it,  getting  a  sort  of  moral  dyspepsia  coming 
from  intellectual  surfeit.  In  A  House  of  Gentle- 
folk he  lays  the  centre  of  action  in  that  section 
of  the  nobility  which  has  hardly  been  touched 
by  European  civilisation. 

Lisa,  who  is  the  chief  character  in  the  story, 
around  whom  everything  revolves,  is  a  girl  who 
plays  the  piano  and  talks  French.  But  in  her 
moral  ideas  and  religious  views  she  remains 
exactly  what  the  millions  of  her  sisters  of  the 
peasant  class  still  are.  Never  in  her  life  had 
she  heard  any  progressive  ideas,  and  if  she  had 
she  would  have  been,  perhaps,  too  shy  to  lift 
her  voice  in  protest,  but  she  would  have  con- 
demned them  in  her  heart,  with  that  happy 
unquestioning  assurance  which  is  the  reward 
▼ii 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

of  a  primitive  nature.  Neither  Tolstoi  nor 
Dostoevsky  could  find  fault  with  her.  She  is 
a  good  modest  representative  of  Russian  girl- 
hood as  the  past  centuries  have  shaped  it.  The 
masterliness  of  Turgenev's  method  is  shown  in 
his  having  painted  her  all  through  in  modest 
greyish  tints,  never  using  striking  colour.  He 
does  not  make  her  exceptional  in  any  way, 
not  even  very  intellectual  or  particularly  good- 
looking.  Moral  beauty  and  strength  appear 
in  her  in  truth  and  purity  without  any  adorn- 
ment mental  or  aesthetic,  and  that  is  why  she 
captivates  the  heart  so  completely,  the  Russian 
heart  especially. 

Devoted,  single-minded,  free  from  any  trace 
of  frivolity,  she  is  capable  of  unbounded  pas- 
sive endurance,  but  she  recoils  as  from  a  deadly 
sin  at  the  very  thought  of  breaking  through 
the  barriers  which  surround  her.  The  idea  of 
duty  fills  her  entirely,  but  it  appears  to  her 
invariably  in  the  form  of  self-sacrifice.  In  all 
the  difficulties  and  troubles  of  life  she  finds  a 
refuge  in  abnegation  of  self.  She  is  an  earnest, 
simple,  sterling  nature,  lovable  and  dear  to  us 
even  in  her  aberrations. 

She  lives  entirely  in  mediaeval  ideals,  and  the 
resolution  she  comes  to  after  the  catastrophe 
which  shatters  her  happy  dreams,  is  such  as 
women  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  peasant  girls  of 


INTRODUCTION 

modern  Russia  might  come  to  in  her  position. 
But  one  feels  throughout  the  great  potentialities 
hidden  in  that  earnest  virgin  soul,  and  there 
must  always  be  hope  for  a  country  where  men 
can  count  upon  the  support  of  such  women. 

Lavretsky  knows  and  feels  it.  He  has  dis- 
covered her,  guessing  her  nature  at  first  sight. 
He  is  the  hero  of  the  story  and  the  exponent  of 
its  idea. 

By  the  mother's  side  Lavretsky  is  of  peasant 
origin,  and  Lisa  has  been  educated  by  a  peasant 
woman.  Both  have  in  their  characters  some 
traits  which  give  an  idea  of  the  democratic, 
plebeian  Russia,  which  is  little  known,  but  to 
which  belongs  the  future. 

Lavretsky  is  a  strong,  sober  man  in  the  prime 
of  manhood,  who  knows  his  own  mind  and  has 
a  good  deal  of  firmness  notwithstanding  his 
soft  Slavonic  nature.  He  is  one  of  the  few  of 
Turgenev's  heroes  who  can  be  called  men  of 
action — a  standing  contrast  to  Dmitri  Rudin. 
Lavretsky  is  also  an  enthusiast  of  a  steady, 
persevering  type,  and  a  man  of  high  culture. 
But  his  studies  and  his  long  life  abroad  have 
not  made  him  a  cosmopolitan  like  his  pre- 
decessor. Quite  the  contrary.  He  is  above  all 
a  Russian.  This  point  is  settled  beyond  con- 
troversy by  the  unerring  instinct  of  Lisa,  this 
Russian  among  Russians. 
ix 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

After  Lavretsky's  very  suggestive  theoretical 
discussion  with  Panshin,  a  pure  'Westerner/ 
though  of  a  low  type,  she  feels  suddenly  at 
home  with  him  as  with  one  of  her  own  kitli  and 
kin  ;  she  condones  in  him  what  she  considers 
to  be  impiety,  and  she  is  drawn  toward  him  by 
the  discovery  of  their  spiritual  fellowship,  which 
dawns  upon  her  as  a  revelation. 

She  understands  him  thoroughly  and  approves 
of  him,  ideas  and  all.  But  an  English  reader 
may  somewhat  disagree  with  her.  For  him 
there  may  be  something  incomplete  and  vague 
about  Lavretsky.  His  ideas,  for  example,  as 
far  as  they  are  expressed  or  rather  hinted  at 
in  the  story,  must  appear  somewhat  strange, 
narrow  and  rather  too  conservative  for  a  man  of 
such  a  broad  culture.  Besides,  the  reader  will 
stumble  upon  another  difficulty.  Lavretsky 
has  evidently  some  lofty  object  in  life.  But 
what  is  it  ?  On  coming  upon  the  scene  he 
announces  with  that  conscious  modesty  which 
suits  so  well  real  merit,  that  he  came  to  Russia 
'  to  cultivate  the  land.'  At  the  end  of  the  story, 
his  success  in  that  line  is  mentioned  with  a 
special  emphasis.  But  it  does  not  make  it  any 
clearer  for  an  unsophisticated  English  reader 
why  there  should  be  anything  particularly  meri- 
torious or  lofty  or  interesting  in  the  fact  of  a  man 
being  prudent  and  successful  in  his  own  business. 


INTRODUCTION 

For  the  Russians  these  enigmas  do  not  exist. 

Being  used  to  the  reticence  which  considerations 
of  censorship  impose  upon  their  writers  when 
speaking  on  certain  subjects,  they  understand 
quite  clearly  that  for  Lavretsky  'tilling  the 
land '  means  to  live  with  the  people,  to  become 
one  of  them,  as  much  as  it  is  possible  for  a  man 
of  another  class,  to  win  their  confidence,  and  to 
bridge  over — be  it  in  one  small  locality — the 
abyss,  which  divides  in  Russia  the  educated 
classes  from  the  masses.  Lavretsky  is  a 
reformer,  a  missionary  of  the  democratic  idea. 
We  may  call  him,  without  straining  much  the 
term,  a  revolutionist  of  a  sober  and  reasonable 
type,  such  as  Turgenev  has  tried  to  give  us  in 
Solomin,  the  hero  of  his  Virgin  Soil.  The 
two  men  are  of  exactly  the  same  type,  the 
younger  helping  one  to  understand  the  older. 
They  even  resemble  each  other  in  appearance, 
like  brothers.  Solomin,  who  made  his  public 
appearance  eight  years  later,  in  a  time  of  com- 
parative relaxation  of  the  censorship,  shows 
more  freely  his  missionary  and  unmistakably 
revolutionary  tendencies.  He  is  a  Lavretsky 
who  settled  among  the  factory  workmen  instead 
of 'going  among  the  peasants.'  There  is  how- 
ever one  point  of  great  difference  between  the 
two  heroes  of  Turgenev :  the  Solomins  did  not 
exist  in  Russia.  Needless  to  explain  why 
xi 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

The  fact  is  that  they  did  not  exist.  Turgenev 
invented  this  favourite  of  his  as  his  own  mouth- 
piece ;  and  he  failed  in  making  him  anything 
but  a  shadow.  Turgenev  was  one  of  those  born 
realists  who  can  create  only  from  some  living 
model.  Lavretsky  is  living  and  concrete  be- 
cause embodying  a  great  movement  which 
passed  before  Turgenev's  eyes,  leaving  a  pro- 
found mark  upon  the  growth  of  democratic 
ideas  in  our  country. 

The  body  of  very  gifted  men — philosophers, 
novelists,  poets,  folk-lorists — who  started  this 
movement  assumed  the  name  of  Slavophils. 
They  ought  to  have  called  themselves  Russo- 
phils  or  nationalists.  They  were  men  of  high 
culture,  but  they  studied  Western  philosophy 
only  with  the  object  of  disparaging  it.  In  the 
whole  of  European  culture  they  saw  nothing  but 
strife,  selfishness,  and  moral  rottenness.  The 
'  West,'  according  to  them,  had  outlived  its  age, 
and  was  doomed  to  decay.  The  regeneration 
of  the  world  was  to  come  from  a  new  and  fresh, 
race,  the  Slavonic,  headed  and  represented  by 
Russia.  To  find  the  '  new  word,'  solving  all  the 
painful  problems  of  the  century,  moral  and 
social,  one  must  go,  not  to  German  books,  but  to 
the  humble  cottages  of  the  peasants  in  whom 
the  old  Slavonic  ideas  have  remained  uncor- 
rupted  by  Western  culture,  that  Western  culture 


INTRODUCTION 

which  in  an  evil  hour  Peter,  called  the  Great, 
had  been  ill-advised  enough  to  force  upon 
Russia. 

This  was  patriotism  run  mad.  Still  at  the 
bottom  of  it  there  was  patriotism,  the  manliest 
and  most  inspiring  of  sentiments.  These  early 
Slavophils  were  ardent  democrats  and  lovers  of 
the  people.  They  were  the  first  among  the 
educated  class  who  actually  went  among  the 
peasants  to  study  their  customs,  habits  of  life, 
poetry,  social  arrangements,  and  the  legal  and 
ethical  conceptions  evolved  by  the  peasants  in 
their  village  communes.  It  was  natural  that 
they  should  be  led  somewhat  astray  by  their 
enthusiasm.  In  all  countries  we  find  at  the 
awakening  of  national  consciousness  these 
dreams  of  their  special  mission.  These  are 
errors  of  the  heart  which  never  do  harm.  The 
Slavophils  sinned  not  through  the  excess  of 
their  love  for  their  people,  but  through  lack  of 
respect  for  themselves.  They  were  slavish  in 
their  admiration.  Being  men  of  culture  and 
lovers  of  freedom  they  thought  themselves 
bound  to  blunt  their  own  minds,  and  accept 
such  pernicious  institutions  as  autocracy  on  the 
one  hand  and  the  orthodox  church  on  the  other, 
because  both  had  a  firm  hold  over  the  minds  of 
the  masses.  This  fatal  self-annihilation  ruined 
the  party  and  allowed  it  to  be  exploited  by  the 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

own  kindred ;  and  he  has  no  need  to  idealise 
them  to  keep  that  feeling  alive.  It  lives  of 
itself,  and  makes  a  different  man  of  him.  Com- 
pare only  the  two  leading  characters  in  the 
two  consecutive  novels.  Dmitri  Rudin  is  by- 
far  the  better  favoured  by  nature.  He  has 
brilliancy,  eloquence,  genius,  whilst  Lavretsky 
is  a  man  without  any  exceptional  gifts.  But 
he  is  to  Rudin  like  a  solid  oak  to  a  shaking 
reed. 

Turgenev,  as  is  his  wont,  makes  their  love 
affairs  a  test  of  their  character.  Now,  whilst 
Dmitri  Rudin  has  become  so  weakened  in 
character  by  his  unreal  life  of  the  brain,  and 
the  fancy  that  he  has  not  manliness  enough  to 
grasp  the  happiness  which  is  freely  offered  to 
him,  Lavretsky  stands  a  terrible  blow  which 
ruins  for  ever  his  happiness,  and  is  not  crushed. 
He  comes  out  of  the  ordeal  a  better  and  purer 
man  than  he  was  before.  Such  he  appears  in 
the  epilogue,  which  gives  a  touching  figure  of 
a  man  whose  heart  is  broken  by  the  loss  of  his 
one  great  love,  but  who  is  only  the  kinder  to 
all  around  him,  having  given  up  all  claims 
to  egoistic  happiness,  and  living  only  for  the 
happiness  of  others. 

The  novel  is  melancholy,  like  all  Turgenev's 
stories,  but  not  depressing.  A  solemn  elevat- 
ing note  rings  through  it.  Compared  to  Dmitri 
xvi 


INTRODUCTION 

Rudin  it  is  hopeful,  encouraging.  If  we  did 
not  know  the  dates,  we  might  take  Л  House 
of  Gentlefolk  for  Turgenev's  youthful  produc- 
tion, and  Dmitri  Rudin  for  the  outcome  of 
the  scepticism  of  later  days.  It  is  the  poem  of 
the  youth  of  the  Russian  democracy,  the  birth 
of  which  Turgenev  has  discovered  and  hailed 
in  this  fresh  and  pathetic  story, 

S.  STEPNIAK- 


cvS 


THE  NAMES  OF  THE  CHzVRACTERS 
IN  THE  BOOK 

MXrya  DMfxRiEVNA  KalItin. 

Marfa  Timof-y6vna  P^stov. 

Sergei  Petr6vitch  Gedeonovsky. 

F^DOR  {pr.  Fybdor)  IvANiTCH  Lavretskv 

Elisaveta  Mihalovna  (Lisa). 

Lenotchka. 

Shurotchka. 

Nastasya  Karpovna. 

VLADfMiR  NikolAitch  PAnshin. 

Christoph6r  Fedoritch  Lemm. 

Pi6tr  Andr6itch  Lavr^tsky. 

Anna  PAvlovna, 

IvAn  Petr6vitch. 

GbAFfRA    PeTROVNA. 

MalAnya  Sergy^vna. 
MiHALi;viTCH. 

PAvEL   PeTr6v1TCH    KOROBYIN. 

Kalli6pa  KArlovna. 

VarvAra  PAvlovna. 

Ant6n. 

Apraxya. 

AgAfya  VlAsyevna. 


In  transcribing  the  Russian  names  into  English — 
a  has  the  sound  of  a  m  father. 
e        ,y  ,f        a  in  pane. 

I         t>  »         ^^• 

и  „  „  00. 

у  is  always  consonantal  except  when  it  is 

the  last  letter  of  the  word. 
^  is  always  hard. 


I 


A  BRIGHT  spring  day  was  fading  into  evening. 
High  overhead  in  the  clear  heavens  small  rosy 
clouds  seemed  hardly  to  move  across  the  sky 
but  to  be  sinking  into  its  depths  of  blue. 

In  a  handsome  house  in  one  of  the  outlying 

streets  of  the  government  town  of  О (it 

was  in  the  year  1842)  two  women  were  sitting 
at  an  open  window ;  one  was  about  fifty,  the 
other  an  old  lady  of  seventy. 

The  name  of  the  former  was  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna  Kalitin.  Her  husband,  a  shrewd  deter- 
mined man  of  obstinate  bilious  temperament, 
had  been  dead  for  ten  years.  He  had  been  a 
provincial  public  prosecutor,  noted  in  his  own 
day  as  a  successful  man  of  business.  He  had 
received  a  fair  education  and  had  been  to  the 
university ;  but  having  been  born  in  narrow 
circumstances  he  realised  early  in  life  the 
necessity  of  pushing  his  own  way  in  the  world 
and  making  money.  It  had  been  a  love-match 
on  Marya  Dmitrievna's  side.     He  was  not  bad- 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

looking,  was  clever  and  could  be  very  agreeable 
when  he  chose.  Marya  Dmitrievna  Pestov — 
that  was  her  maiden  name — had  lost  her 
parents  in  childhood.  She  spent  some  years  in 
a  boarding-school  in  Moscow,  and  after  leaving 
school,  lived  on  the  family  estate  of  Pokrov- 

skoe,  about  forty  miles  from  О ,  with  her 

aunt  and  her  elder  brother.  This  brother 
soon  after  obtained  a  post  in  Petersburg,  and 
made  them  a  scanty  allowance.  He  treated 
his  aunt  and  sister  very  shabbily  till  his  sudden 
death  cut  short  his  career.  Marya  Dmitrievna 
inherited  Pokrovskoe,  but  she  did  not  live 
there  long.  Two  years  after  her  marriage  with 
Kalitin,  who  succeeded  in  winning  her  heart  in 
a  few  days,  Pokrovskoe  was  exchanged  for 
another  estate,  which  yielded  a  much  larger 
income,  but  was  utterly  unattractive  and  had  no 
house.     At  the  same  time  Kalitin  took  a  house 

in  the  town  of  О ,  in  which  he  and  his  wife 

took  up  their  permanent  abode.  There  was  a 
large  garden  round  the  house,  which  on  one 
side  looked  out  upon  the  open  country  away 
from  the  town. 

'  And  so,'  decided  Kalitin,  who  had  a  great 
distaste  for  the  quiet  of  country  life,  'there 
would  be  no  need  for  them  to  be  dragging 
themselves  off  into  the  country.'  In  her  heart 
Marya  Dmitrievna  more  than  once  regretted 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

her  pretty  Pokrovskoe,  with  its  babbh'ng  brook, 
its  wide  meadows,  and  green  copses ;  but  she 
never  opposed  her  husband  in  anything  and 
had  the  greatest  veneration  for  his  wisdom  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  When  after  fifteen 
years  of  married  life  he  died  leaving  her  with  a 
son  and  two  daughters,  Marya  Dmitrievna  had 
grown  so  accustomed  to  her  house  and  to  town 
life  that  she  had  no  inclination  to  leave 
О . 

In  her  youth  Marya  Dmitrievna  had  always 
been  spoken  of  as  a  pretty  blonde  ;  and  at  fifty 
her  features  had  not  lost  all  charm,  though  they 
were  somewhat  coarser  and  less  delicate  in  out- 
line. She  was  more  sentimental  than  kind- 
hearted  ;  and  even  at  her  mature  age,  she 
retained  the  manners  of  the  boarding-school. 
She  was  self-indulgent  and  easily  put  out,  even 
moved  to  tears  when  she  was  crossed  in  any  of 
her  habits.  She  was,  however,  very  sweet  and 
agreeable  when  all  her  wishes  were  carried  out 
and  none  opposed  her.  Her  house  was  among 
the  pleasantest  in  the  town.  She  had  a  consi- 
derable fortune,  not  so  much  from  her  own  pro- 
perty as  from  her  husband's  savings.  Her  two 
daughters  were  living  with  her  ;  her  son  was 
being  educated  in  one  of  the  best  government 
schools  in  Petersburg. 

The  old  lady  sitting  with  Marya  Dmitrievna 
3 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

at  the  window  was  her  father's  sister,  the  same 
aunt  with  whom  she  had  once  spent  some  soli- 
tary years  in  Pokrovskoe.  Her  name  was 
Marfa  Timofyevna  Pestov.  She  had  a  reputa- 
tion for  eccentricity  as  she  was  a  woman  of  an 
independent  character,  told  every  one  the  truth 
to  his  face,  and  even  in  the  most  straitened 
circumstances  behaved  just  as  if  she  had  a  for- 
tune at  her  disposal.  She  could  not  endure 
Kalitin,  and  directly  her  niece  married  him,  she 
removed  to  her  little  property,  where  for  ten 
whole  years  she  lived  in  a  smoky  peasants' 
hut,  Marya  Dmitrievna  was  a  little  afraid  of 
her.  A  little  sharp-nosed  woman  with  black 
hair  and  keen  eyes  even  in  her  old  age,  Marfa 
Timofyevna  walked  briskly,  held  herself  up- 
right and  spoke  quickly  and  clearly  in  a  sharp 
ringing  voice.  She  always  wore  a  white  cap 
and  a  white  dressing-jacket. 

'  What 's  the  matter  with  you  ? '  she  asked 
Marya  Dmitrievna  suddenly.  '  What  are  you 
sighing  about,  pray  ? ' 

*  Nothing,'  answered  the  latter.  '  What  ex- 
quisitve  clouds !' 

'  You  feel  sorry  for  them,  eh  ? ' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  made  no  reply. 

'Why  is  it  Gedeonovsky  does  not  come?" 
observed  Marfa  Timofyevna,  moving  her  knit- 
ting needles  quickly.  (She  was  knitting  a 
4 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

large  woollen  scarf.)  '  He  would  have  sighed 
with  you — or  at  least  he  'd  have  had  some  fib  to 
tell  you.' 

'  How  hard  you  always  are  on  him  !  Sergei 
Petrovitch  is  a  worthy  man.' 

'  Worthy  ! '  repeated  the  old  lady  scornfully. 

'  And  how  devoted  he  was  to  my  poor  hus- 
band!'  observed  Marya  Dmitrievna;  'even  now 
he  cannot  speak  of  him  without  emotion.' 

'  And  no  wonder  !  it  was  he  who  picked  him 
out  of  the  gutter/  muttered  Marfa  Timofyevna, 
and  her  knitting  needles  moved  faster  than 
ever. 

'  He  looks  so  meek  and  mild/  she  began 
again,  '  with  his  grey  head,  but  he  no  sooner 
opens  his  mouth  than  out  comes  a  He  or  a 
slander.  And  to  think  of  his  having  the  rank 
of  a  councillor  I  To  be  sure,  though,  he 's  only 
a  village  priest's  son.' 

*  Every  one  has  faults,  auntie  ;  that  is  his  weak 
point,  no  doubt.  Sergei  Petrovitch  has  had  no 
education  :  of  course  he  does  not  speak  French, 
still,  say  what  you  like,  he  is  an  agreeable  man.' 

*  Yes,  he  is  always  ready  to  kiss  your  hands. 
He  does  not  speak  French — that 's  no  great  loss. 
I  am  not  over  strong  in  the  French  lingo  my- 
self. It  would  be  better  if  he  could  not  speak 
at  all ;  he  would  not  tell  lies  then.  But  here 
he  is — speak  of  the  devil/  added  Marfa  Timof- 

5 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

yevna  looking  into  the  street.  *  Here  comes 
your  agreeable  man  striding  along.  What  a 
lanky  creature  he  is,  just  like  a  stork  ! ' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  began  to  arrange  her 
curls.  Marfa  Timofyevna  looked  at  her  ironi- 
cally. 

*  What 's  that,  not  a  grey  hair  surely  ?  You 
must  speak  to  your  Palashka,  what  can  she  be 
thinking  about  ? ' 

'  Really,  auntie,  you  are  always  so  .  .  .* 
muttered  Marya  Dmitrievna  in  a  tone  of  vexa- 
tion, drumming  on  the  arm  of  her  chair  with 
her  finger-tips. 

'Sergei  Petrovitch  Gedeonovsky ! '  was 
announced  in  a  shrill  piping  voice,  by  a  rosy- 
cheeked  little  page  who  made  his  appearance 
at  the  door. 


II 


A  TALL  man  entered,  wearing  a  tidy  overcoat, 
rather  short  trousers,  grey  doeskin  gloves,  and 
two  neckties — a  black  one  outside,  and  a  white 
one  below  it.  There  was  an  air  of  decorum  and 
propriety  in  everything  about  him,  from  his  pros- 
perous countenance  and  smoothly  brushed  hair, 
to  his  low-heeled,  noiseless  boots.  He  bowed 
first  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  then  to  Marfa 
Timofyevna,  and  slowly  drawing  off  his  gloves, 
he  advanced  to  take  Marya  Dmitrievna's  hand. 
After  kissing  it  respectfully  twice  he  seated 
himself  with  deliberation  in  an  arm-chair,  and 
rubbing  the  very  tips  of  his  fingers  together,  he 
observed  with  a  smile — 

*  And  is  EHsaveta  Mihalovna  quite  well?  ' 
*Yes,'  replied  Marya  Dmitrievna,  'she's  in 

the  garden.' 

'And  Elena  Mihalovna?' 

*  Lenotchka  's  in  the  garden  too.     Is  there  no 
news? ' 

'  There  is  indeed  ! '  replied  the  visitor,  slowly 
blinking  his  eyes  and  pursing  up  his  mouth. 

7 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  Hm  !  .  .  .  yes,  indeed,  there  is  a  piece  of  news, 
and  vety  surprising  news  too.  Lavretsky — 
Fedor  Ivanitch  is  here.' 

'  Fedya  ? '  cried  Marfa  Timofyevna.  'Are  you 
sure  you  are  not  romancing,  my  good  man?' 

'  No,  indeed,  I  saw  him  myself.' 

'  Well,  that  does  not  prove  it' 

'  Fedor  Ivanitch  looked  much  more  robust,' 
continued  Gedeonovsky,  affecting  not  to  have 
heard  Marfa  Timofyevna's  last  remark.  *  Fedor 
Ivanitch  is  broader  and  has  quite  a  colour.' 

'  He  looked  more  robust,'  said  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna,  dwelling  on  each  syllable.  '  I  should 
have  thought  he  had  little  enough  to  make 
him  look  robust.' 

*Yes,  indeed,'  observed  Gedeonovsky;  'any 
other  man  in  Fedor  Ivanitch's  position  would 
have  hesitated  to  appear  in  society.' 

'Why  so,  pray?'  interposed  Marfa  Timof- 
yevna. '  What  nonsense  are  you  talking  !  The 
man  's  come  back  to  his  home — where  would 
you  have  him  go  ?  And  has  he  been  to  blame, 
I  should  like  to  know  ! ' 

'  The  husband  is  always  to  blame,  madam,  I 
venture  to  assure  you,  when  a  wife  misconducts 
herself 

'  You  say  that,  my  good  sir,  because  you  have 
never  been  married  yourself.'  Gedeonovsky 
listened  with  a  forced  smile. 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

*  If  I  may  be  so  inquisitive/  he  asked,  after 
a  short  pause,  '  for  whom  is  that  pretty  scarf 
intended  ? ' 

Marfa  Timofyevna  gave  him  a  sharp  look. 

'  It 's  intended,'  she  replied,  '  for  a  man  who 
does  not  talk  scandal,  nor  play  the  hypocrite, 
nor  tell  lies,  if  there 's  such  a  man  to  be  found 
in  the  world.  I  know  Fedya  well ;  he  was  only 
to  blame  in  being  too  good  to  his  wife.  To  be 
sure,  he  married  for  love,  and  no  good  ever 
comes  of  those  love-matches,'  added  the  old 
lady,  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  Marya 
Dmitrievna,  as  she  got  up  from  her  place. 
•  And  now,  my  good  sir,  you  may  attack  any 
one  you  like,  even  me  if  you  choose  ;  I  'm 
going,  I  will  not  hinder  you.'  And  Marfa 
Timofyevna  walked  away. 

'  That 's  always  how  she  is,'  said  Marya 
Dmitrievna,  following  her  aunt  with  her  eyes. 

'  We  must  remember  your  aunt's  age  .  .  . 
there's  no  help  for  it,'  replied  Gedeonovsky. 
'  She  spoke  of  a  man  not  playing  the  hypocrite. 
But  who  is  not  hypocritical  nowadays  ?  It' s  the 
age  we  live  in.  One  of  my  friends,  a  most 
worthy  man,  and,  I  assure  you,  a  man  of  no 
mean  position,  used  to  say,  that  nowadays  the 
very  hens  can't  pick  up  a  grain  of  corn  without 
hypocrisy — they  always  approach  it  from  one 
side.  But  when  I  look  at  you,  dear  lady-  your 
9 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

character  is  so  truly  angelic  ;  let  me  kiss  your 
little  snow-white  hand  I ' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  with  a  faint  smile  held  out 
her  plump  hand  to  him  with  the  little  finger  held 
apart  from  the  rest  He  pressed  his  lips  to  it,  and 
she  drew  her  chair  nearer  to  him,  and  bending 
a  little  towards  him,  asked  in  an  undertone — 

'  So  you  saw  him  ?  Was  he  really — all  right 
— quite  well  and  cheerful  ? ' 

'  Yes,  he  was  well  and  cheerful/  replied 
Gedeonovsky  in  a  whisper. 

*  You  haven't  heard  where  his  wife  is  now  ? ' 

'  She  was  lately  in  Paris  ;  now,  they  say,  she 
has  gone  away  to  Italy.' 

'  It  is  terrible,  indeed — Fedya's  position  ;  I 
wonder  how  he  can  bear  it.  Every  one,  of 
course,  has  trouble  ;  but  he,  one  may  say,  has 
been  made  the  talk  of  all  Europe.' 

Gedeonovsky  sighed. 

*  Yes,  indeed,  yes,  indeed.  They  do  say,  you 
know  that  she  associates  with  artists  and 
musicians,  and  as  the  saying  is,  with  strange 
creatures  of  all  kinds.  She  has  lost  all  sense  of 
shame  completely.' 

'  I  am  deeply,  deeply  grieved,'  said  Marya 
Dmitrievna.  *  On  account  of  our  relationship  ; 
you  know,  Sergei  Pctrovitch,  he's  my  cousin 
many  times  removed.' 

*  Of  course,  of  course.     Don 't  I  know  every- 

lO 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

thing  that  concerns  your  family  ?  I  should  hope 
so,  indeed.' 

'  Will  he  come  to  see  us — what  do  you 
think?' 

*  One  would  suppose  so  ;  though,  they  say,  he 
is  intending  to  go  home  to  his  country  place.' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  lifted  her  eyes  to  heaven. 

'Ah,  Sergei  Petrovitch,  Sergei  Petrovitch, 
when  I  think  how  careful  we  w^men  ought  to 
be  in  our  conduct ! ' 

'  There  are  women  and  women,  Marya 
Dmitrievna.  There  are  unhappily  such  ...  of 
flighty  character  .  .  .  and  at  a  certain  age  too, 
and  then  they  are  not  brought  up  in  good 
principles.*  (Sergei  Petrovitch  drew  a  blue 
checked  handkerchief  out  of  his  pocket  and 
began  to  unfold  it)  '  There  are  such  women, 
no  doubt'  (Sergei  Petrovitch  applied  a  corner 
of  the  handkerchief  first  to  one  and  then  to 
the  other  eye.)  '  But  speaking  generally,  if  one 
takes  into  consideration,  I  mean  .  ,  .  the  dust 
in  the  town  is  really  extraordinary  to-day,'  he 
wound  up. 

'  Maman,  maman^  cried  a  pretty  little  girl 
of  eleven  running  into  the  room,  '  Vladimir 
Nikolaitch  is  coming  on  horseback  !' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  got  up  ;  Sergei  Petrovitch 
also  rose  and  made  a  bow.  '  Our  humble 
respects  to  Elena  Mihalovna,'  he  said,  and  turn- 
II 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

ing  aside  into  a  corner  for  good  manners,  he 
began  blowing  his  long  straight  nose. 

'What  a  splendid  horse  he  has!'  continued 
the  little  girl.  '  He  was  at  the  gate  just  now, 
he  told  Lisa  and  me  he  would  dismount  at 
the  steps.' 

The  sound  of  hoofs  was  heard  ;  and  a  grace- 
ful young  man,  riding  a  beautiful  bay  horse,  was 
seen  in  the  street,  and  stopped  at  the  open 
window. 


ts 


Ill 


'How  do  you  do,  Marya  Dmitrlevna?'  cried 
the  young  man  in  a  pleasant,  ringing  voice. 
*  How  do  you  like  my  new  purchase?' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  went  up  to  the  window. 

'How  do  you  do,  Wolde)?iar\  Ah,  what  a 
splendid  horse  !     Where  did  you  buy  it } ' 

'  I  bought  it  from  the  army  contractor.  .  ,  , 
He  made  me  pay  for  it  too,  the  brigand ! ' 

*  What 's  its  name  ? ' 

*  Orlando.  .  .  .  But  it 's  a  stupid  name ;  I 
want  to  change  it  .  .  .  Eh  bien,  eh  bien,  шоп 
S^-ar^on.  .  .  .  What  a  restless  beast  it  is  ! ' 

The  horse  snorted,  pawed  the  ground,  and 
shook  the  foam  off  the  bit. 

*  Lenotchka,  stroke  him,  don't  be  afraid.' 
The  little  girl  stretched  her  hand  out  of  the 

window,  but  Orlando  suddenly  reared  and 
started.  The  rider  with  perfect  self-possession 
gave  it  a  cut  with  the  whip  across  the  neck,  and 
keeping  a  tight  grip  with  his  legs  forced  it  in 
13 


A   HOUSE  OF  flENTLEFOLK 

spite  of  its  opposition,  to  stand  still  again  at 
the  window. 

' Prenez  garde,  prenez  garde',  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna  kept  repeating. 

*  Lenotchka,  pat  him/  said  the  young  man, 
'  I  won't  let  him  be  perverse.' 

The  little  girl  again  stretched  out  her  hand 
and  timidly  patted  the  quivering  nostrils  of  the 
horse,  who  kept  fidgeting  and  champing  the 
bit. 

'  Bravo ! '  cried  Marya  Dmitrievna,  *  but  now 
get  off  and  come  in  to  us.' 

The  rider  adroitly  turned  his  horse,  gave  him 
a  touch  of  the  spur,  and  galloping  down  the 
street  soon  reached  the  courtyard.  A  minute 
later  he  ran  into  the  drawing-room  by  the  door 
from  the  hall,  flourishing  his  whip  ;  at  the  same 
moment  there  appeared  in  the  other  doorway  a 
tall,  slender  dark-haired  girl  of  nineteen,  Marya 
Dmitrievna's  eldest  daughter,  Lisa. 


14 


IV 


The  name  of  the  young  man  whom  we  have  just 
introduced  to  the  reader  was  Vladimir  Nikola- 
itch  Panshin.  He  served  in  Petersburg  on 
special  commissions  in  the  department  of  in- 
ternal affairs.  He  had  come  to  the  town  of 
О to  carry  out  some  temporary  govern- 
ment commissions,  and  was  in  attendance  on 
the  Governor-General  Zonnenberg,  to  whom  he 
happened  to  be  distantly  related.  Panshin's 
father,  a  retired  cavalry  officer  and  a  notorious 
gambler,  was  a  man  with  insinuating  eyes,  a 
battered  countenance,  and  a  nervous  twitch 
about  the  mouth.  He  spent  his  whole  life 
hanging  about  the  aristocratic  world ;  fre- 
quented the  English  clubs  of  both  capitals,  and 
had  the  ijeputation  of  a  smart,  not  very  trust- 
worthy, but  jolly  good  -  natured  fellow.  In 
spite  of  his  smartness,  he  was  almost  always 
on  the  brink  of  ruin,  and  the  property  he 
left  his  son  was  small  and  heavily  encumbered. 
To  make  up  for  that,  however,  he  did  exert 
15 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

himself,  after  his  own  fashion,  over  his  son's 
education.  Vladimir  Nikolaitch  spoke  French 
very  well,  English  well,  and  German  badly ; 
that  is  the  proper  thing  :  fashionable  people 
would  be  ashamed  to  speak  German  well ;  but 
to  utter  an  occasional — generally  a  humorous — 
phrase  in  German  is  quite  correct,  <^est  тёте 
tres  chic,  as  the  Parisians  of  Petersburg  express 
themselves.  By  the  time  he  was  fifteen,  Vladi- 
mir knew  how  to  enter  any  drawing-room  with- 
out embarrassment,  how  to  move  about  in  it 
gracefully  and  to  leave  it  at  the  appropriate 
moment.  Panshin's  father  gained  many  connec- 
tions for  his  son.  He  never  lost  an  opportunity, 
while  shuffling  the  cards  between  two  rubbers, 
or  playing  a  successful  trump,  of  dropping  a 
hint  about  his  Volodka  to  any  personage 
of  importance  who  was  a  devotee  of  cards. 
And  Vladimir,  too,  during  his  residence  at  the 
university,  which  he  left  without  a  very  brilliant 
degree,  formed  an  acquaintance  with  several 
young  men  of  quality,  and  gained  an  entry  into 
the  best  houses.  He  was  received  cordially 
everywhere :  he  was  very  good-looking,  easy  in 
his  manners,  amusing,  always  in  good  health,  and 
ready  for  everything  ;  respectful,  when  he  ought 
to  be  ;  insolent,  when  he  dared  to  be  ;  excellent 
company,  un  charmant  garden.  The  promised 
land  lay  before  him.  Panshin  quickly  learnt  the 
i6 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

secret  of  getting  on  in  the  world  ;  he  knew  how 
to  yield  with  genuine  respect  to  its  decrees  ;  he 
knew  how  to  take  up  trifles  with  half  ironical 
seriousness,  and  to  appear  to  regard  everything 
serious  as  trifling  ;  he  was  a  capital  dancer  ;  and 
dressed  in  the  English  style.  In  a  short  time 
he  gained  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the 
smartest  and  most  attractive  young  men  in 
Petersburg.  Panshin  was  indeed  very  smart, 
not  less  so  than  his  father  ;  but  he  was  also  very 
talented.  He  did  everything  well  ;  he  sang 
charmingly,  sketched  with  spirit,  wrote  verses, 
and  was  a  very  fair  actor.  He  was  only  twenty- 
eight,  and  he  was  already  a  kammer-yunker, 
and  had  a  very  good  position.  Panshin  had 
complete  confidence  in  himself,  in  his  own 
intelligence,  and  his  own  penetration  ;  he  made 
his  way  with  light-hearted  assurance,  everything 
went  smoothly  with  him.  He  was  used  to  being 
liked  by  every  one,  old  and  young,  and  imagined 
that  he  understood  people,  especially  women  : 
he  certainly  understood  their  ordinary  weak- 
nesses. As  a  man  of  artistic  leanings,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  capacity  for  passion,  for  being 
carried  away,  even  for  enthusiasm,  and,  conse- 
quently, he  permitted  himself  various  irregu- 
larities ;  he  was  dissipated,  associated  with 
persons  not  belonging  to  good  society,  and,  in 
general,  conducted  himself  in  a  free  and  easy 
17  в 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

manner  ;  but  at  heart  he  was  cold  and  false, 
and  at  the  moment  of  the  most  boisterous 
revelry  his  sharp  brown  eye  was  always  alert, 
taking  everything  in.  This  bold,  independent 
young  man  could  never  forget  himself  and  be 
completely  carried  away.  To  his  credit  it  must 
be  said,  that  he  never  boasted  of  his  conquests. 
He  had  found  his  way  into  Marya  Dmitrievna's 

house  immediately  he   arrived  in  О ,  and 

was  soon  perfectly  at  home  there.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  absolutely  adored  him.  Panshin 
exchanged  cordial  greetings  with  every  one  in 
the  room  ;  he  shook  hands  with  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna and  Lisaveta  Mihalovna,  clapped  Gedeo- 
novsky  lightly  on  the  shoulder,  and  turning 
round  on  his  heels,  put  his  hand  on  Lenotchka's 
head  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 

'Aren't  you  afraid  to  ride  such  a  vicious 
horse.?'  Marya  Dmitrievna  questioned  him. 

'  I  assure  you  he 's  very  quiet,  but  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  am  afraid  of :  1  'm  afraid  to  play 
preference  with  Sergei  Petrovitch  ;  yesterday 
he  cleaned  me  out  of  everything  at  Madame 
Byelenitsin's.' 

Gedeonovsky  gave  a  thin,  sympathetic  little 
laugh  ;  he  was  anxious  to  be  in  favour  with 
the  brilliant  young  official  from  Petersburg — 
the  governor's  favourite.  In  conversation  with 
Marya   Dmitrievna,   he  often  alluded  to  Pan- 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

shin's  remarkable  abilities.  Indeed,  he  used  to 
argue  how  can  one  help  admiring  him  ?  The 
young  man  is  making  his  way  in  the  highest 
spheres,  he  is  an  exemplary  official,  and  not  a 
bit  of  pride  about  him.  And,  in  fact,  even  in 
Petersburg  Panshin  was  reckoned  a  capable 
official  ;  he  got  through  a  great  deal  of  work  ; 
he  spoke  of  it  lightly  as  befits  a  man  of  the 
world  who  does  not  attach  any  special  import- 
ance to  his  labours,  but  he  never  hesitated  in 
carrying  out  orders.  The  authorities  like  such 
subordinates  ;  he  himself  had  no  doubt,  that  if 
he  chose,  he  could  be  a  minister  in  time. 

'  You  are  pleased  to  say  that  I  cleaned  you 
out,'  replied  Gedeonovsky ;  '  but  who  was  it  won 
twelve  roubles  of  me  last  week  and  more  ? '  .  .  . 

'You're  a  malicious  fellow,'  Panshin  inter- 
rupted, with  genial  but  somewhat  contemptuous 
carelessness,  and,  paying  him  no  further  atten- 
tion, he  went  up  to  Lisa. 

'  I  cannot  get  the  overture  of  Obcron  here,' 
he  began.  '  Madame  Byelenitsin  was  boasting 
when  she  said  she  had  all  the  classical  music  : 
in  reality  she  has  nothing  but  polkas  and 
waltzes,  but  I  have  already  written  to  Moscow, 
and  within  a  week  you  will  have  the  overture. 
By  the  way,'  he  went  on,  *  I  wrote  a  new  song 
yesterday,  the  words  too  are  mine,  would  you 
care  for  me  to  sing  it  ?  I  don't  know  how  far 
19 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

it  is  successful.  Madame  Byelenitsin  thought 
it  very  pretty,  but  her  words  mean  nothing.  I 
should  like  to  know  what  you  think  of  it.  But 
I  think,  though,  that  had  better  be  later  on.' 

'  Why  later  on  ? '  interposed  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna, '  why  not  now  .<* ' 

*  I  obey,'  replied  Panshin,  with  a  peculiar 
bright  and  sweet  smile,  which  came  and  went 
suddenly  on  his  face.  He  drew  up  a  chair  with 
his  knee,  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  striking  a 
few  chords  began  to  sing,  articulating  the  words 
clearly,  the  following  song — 

Above  the  earth  the  moon  floats  high 

Amid  pale  clouds ; 
Its  magic  light  in  that  far  sky 

Yet  stirs  the  floods. 

My  heart  has  found  a  moon  to  rule 

Its  stormy  sea ; 
To  joy  and  sorrow  it  is  moved 

Only  by  thee. 

My  soul  is  full  of  love's  cruel  smart, 

And  longing  vain ; 
But  thou  art  calm,  as  that  cold  moon, 

That  knows  not  pain. 

The  second  couplet  was  sung  by  Panshin 
with  special  power  and  expression,  the  sound 
of  waves  was  heard  in  the  stormy  accompani- 
ment. After  the  words  *  and  longing  vain, 
he  sighed  softly,  dropped  his  eyes  and  let  his 
20 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

voice  gradually  die  away,  morendo.  When  he 
had  finished,  Lisa  praised  the  motive,  Marya 
Dmitrievna  cried,  'Charming!'  but  Gedeonovsky 
went  so  far  as  to  exclaim,  *  Ravishing  poetry, 
and  music  equally  ravishing!'  Lenotchka 
looked  with  childish  reverence  at  the  singer. 
In  short,  every  one  present  was  delighted 
with  the  young  dilettante's  composition  ;  but 
at  the  door  leading  into  the  drawing-room 
from  the  hall  stood  an  old  man,  who  had 
only  just  come  in,  and  who,  to  judge  by  the 
expression  of  his  downcast  face  and  the  shrug 
of  his  shoulders,  was  by  no  means  pleased  with 
Panshin's  song,  pretty  though  it  was.  After 
waiting  a  moment  and  flicking  the  dust  off  his 
boots  with  a  coarse  pocket-handkerchief,  this 
man  suddenly  raised  his  eyes,  compressed  his 
lips  with  a  morose  expression,  and  his  stooping 
figure  bent  forward,  he  entered  the  drawing- 
room. 

•  Ah  !  Christopher  Fedoritch,  how  are  you  ? ' 
exclaimed  Panshin  before  any  of  the  others 
could  speak,  and  he  jumped  up  quickly  from 
his  seat.  '  I  had  no  suspicion  that  you  were 
here, — nothing  would  have  induced  me  to  sing 
my  song  before  you.  I  know  you  are  no  lover 
of  light  music' 

*  I  did  not  hear  it,'  declared  the  new-comer, 
in  very  bad  Russian,  and  exchanging  greetings 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

with  every  one,  he  stood  awkwardly  in  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

'  Have  you  come,  Monsieur  Lemm/  said 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  *  to  give  Lisa  her  music 
lesson  ? ' 

'  No,  not  Lisaveta  Mihalovna,  but  Elena 
Mihalovna.' 

'Oh!  very  well.  Lenotchka,  go  up-stairs  with 
Mr.  Lemm.' 

The  old  man  was  about  to  follow  the  little 
girl,  but  Panshin  stopped  him. 

'  Don't  go  after  the  lesson,  Christopher 
Fedoritch,'  he  said.  '  Lisaveta  Mihalovna  and  I 
are  going  to  play  a  duet  of  Beethoven's  sonata.' 

The  old  man  muttered  some  reply,  and 
Panshin  continued  in  German,  mispronouncing 
the  words — 

'  Lisaveta  Mihalovna  showed  me  the  religious 
cantata  you  dedicated  to  her — a  beautiful 
thing !  Pray,  do  not  suppose  that  I  cannot 
appreciate  serious  music — quite  the  contrary : 
it  is  tedious  sometimes,  but  then  it  is  very 
elevating.' 

The  old  man  crimsoned  to  his  ears,  and  with 
a  sidelong  look  at  Lisa,  he  hurriedly  went  out 
of  the  room. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  asked  Panshin  to  sing  his 
song  again  ;  but  he  protested  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  torture  the  ears  of  the  musical  German, 

22 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

and  suggested  to  Lisa  that  they  should  attack 
Beethoven's  sonata.  Then  Marya  Dmitrievna 
heaved  a  sigh,  and  in  her  turn  suggested  to 
Gedeonovsky  a  walk  in  the  garden,  '  I  should 
like/  she  said,  '  to  have  a  little  more  talk,  and 
to  consult  you  about  our  poor  Fedya.'  Gedeon- 
ovsky bowed  with  a  smirk,  and  with  two  fingers 
picked  up  his  hat,  on  the  brim  of  which  his 
gloves  had  been  tidily  laid,  and  went  away  with 
Marya  Dmitrievna.  Panshin  and  Lisa  re- 
mained alone  in  the  room ;  she  fetched  the 
sonata,  and  opened  it ;  both  seated  themselves 
at  the  piano  in  silence.  Overhead  were  heard 
the  faint  sounds  of  scales,  played  by  the  uncer- 
tain fingers  of  Lenotchka 


Christopher  Theodor  Gottlieb  Lemm 
was  born  in  1786  in  the  town  of  Chemnitz  in 
Saxony.  His  parents  were  poor  musicians. 
His  father  played  the  French  horn,  his  mother 
the  harp ;  he  himself  was  practising  on  three 
different  instruments  by  the  time  he  was  five. 
At  eight  years  old  he  was  left  an  orphan,  and 
from  his  tenth  year  he  began  to  earn  his  bread 
by  his  art.  He  led  a  wandering  life  for  many 
years,  and  performed  everywhere  in  restau- 
rants, at  fairs,  at  peasants'  weddings,  and  at 
balls.  At  last  he  got  into  an  orchestra,  and 
constantly  rising  in  it,  he  obtained  the  position 
of  director.  He  was  rather  a  poor  performer; 
but  he  understood  music  thoroughly.  At 
twenty-eight  he  migrated  into  Russia,  on  the 
invitation  of  a  great  nobleman,  who  did  not 
care  for  music  himself,  but  kept  an  orchestra  for 
show.  Lemm  lived  with  him  seven  years  in  the 
capacity  of  orchestra  conductor,  and  left  him 
empty-handed.  The  nobleman  was  ruined,  he 
24 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

intended  to  give  him  a  promissory  note,  but  in 
the  sequel  refused  him  even  that — in  short,  did 
not  pay  him  a  farthing.  He  was  advised  to  go 
away  ;  but  he  was  unwilling  to  return  home  in 
poverty  from  Russia,  that  great  Russia  which  is 
a  mine  of  gold  for  artists  ;  he  decided  to  remain 
and  try  his  luck.  For  twenty  years  the  poor 
German  had  been  trying  his  luck  ;  he  had  lived 
in  various  gentlemen's  houses,  had  suffered  and 
put  up  with  much,  had  faced  privation,  had 
struggled  like  a  fish  on  the  ice  ;  but  the  idea  of 
returning  to  his  own  country  never  left  him 
among  all  the  hardships  he  endured  ;  it  was  this 
dream  alone  that  sustained  him.  But  fate  did 
not  see  fit  to  grant  him  this  last  and  first  happi- 
ness :  at  fifty,  broken-down  in  health  and  pre- 
maturely aged,  he  drifted  to  the  town  of  О , 

and  remained  there  for  good,  having  now  lost 
once  for  all  every  hope  of  leaving  Russia,  which 
he  detested.  He  gained  his  poor  livelihood 
somehow  by  lessons.  Lemm's  exterior  was  not 
prepossessing.  He  was  short  and  bent,  with 
crooked  shoulders,  and  a  contracted  chest,  with 
large  flat  feet,  and  bluish  white  nails  on  the 
gnarled  bony  fingers  of  his  sinewy  red  hands. 
He  had  a  wrinkled  face,  sunken  cheeks,  and 
compressed  lips,  which  he  was  for  ever  twitch- 
ing and  biting ;  and  this,  together  with  his 
habitual  taciturnity,  produced  an  impression 
25 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

almost  sinister.  His  grey  hair  hung  in  tufts  on 
his  low  brow  ;  like  smouldering  embers,  his 
little  set  eyes  glowed  with  dull  fire.  He  moved 
painfully,  at  every  step  swinging  his  ungainly 
body  forward.  Some  of  his  movements  recalled 
the  clumsy  actions  of  an  owl  in  a  cage  when 
it  feels  that  it  is  being  looked  at,  but  itself  can 
hardly  see  out  of  its  great  yellow  eyes  timor- 
ously and  drowsily  blinking.  Pitiless,  prolonged 
sorrow  had  laid  its  indelible  stamp  on  the  poor 
musician  ;  it  had  disfigured  and  deformed  his 
person,  by  no  means  attractive  to  begin  with. 
But  any  one  who  was  able  to  get  over  the  first 
impression  would  have  discerned  something 
good,  and  honest,  and  out  of  the  common  in 
this  half-shattered  creature.  A  devoted  admirer 
of  Bach  and  Handel,  a  master  of  his  art,  gifted 
with  a  lively  imagination  and  that  boldness  of 
conception  which  is  only  vouchsafed  to  the 
German  race,  Lemm  might,  in  time — who 
knows  ? — have  taken  rank  with  the  great  com- 
posers of  his  fatherland,  had  his  life  been 
different ;  but  he  was  born  under  an  unlucky 
star !  He  had  written  much  in  his  life,  and  it 
had  not  been  granted  to  him  to  see  one  of  his 
compositions  produced  ;  he  did  not  know  how 
to  set  about  things  in  the  right  way,  to  gain 
favour  in  the  right  place,  and  to  make  a  push 
at  the  right  moment.  A  long,  long  time  ago, 
26 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

his  one  friend  and  admirer,  also  a  German  and 
also  poor,  had  published  two  of  Lemm's  sonatas 
at  his  own  expense — the  whole  edition  remained 
on  the  shelves  of  the  music-shops ;  they  dis- 
appeared without  a  trace,  as  though  they  had 
been  thrown  into  a  river  by  night.  At  last 
Lemm  had  renounced  everything  ;  the  years 
too  did  their  work  ;  his  mind  had  grown  hard 
and  stiff,  as  his  fingers  had  stiffened.  He  lived 
alone  in  a  little  cottage  not  far  from  the  Kali- 
tin's  house,  with  an  old  cook  he  had  taken 
out  of  the  poorhouse  (he  had  never  married). 
He  took  long  walks,  and  read  the  Bible  and 
the  Protestant  version  of  the  Psalms,  and 
Shakespeare  in  Schlegel's  translation.  He  had 
composed  nothing  for  a  long  time  ;  but  appar- 
ently, Lisa,  his  best  pupil,  had  been  able  to  in- 
spire him  ;  he  had  written  for  her  the  cantata  to 
which  Panshin  had  made  allusion.  The  words 
of  this  cantata  he  had  borrowed  from  his  col- 
lection of  hymns.  He  had  added  a  few  verses 
of  his  own.  It  was  sung  by  two  choruses — a 
chorus  of  the  happy  and  a  chorus  of  the  un- 
happy. The  two  were  brought  into  harmony 
at  the  end,  and  sang  together,  '  Merciful  God, 
have  pity  on  us  sinners,  and  deliver  us  from  all 
evil  thoughts  and  earthly  hopes.'  On  the  title- 
page  was  the  inscription,  most  carefully  written 
and  even  illuminated,  '  Only  the  righteous  are 
27 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

justified.  A  religious  cantata.  Composed  and 
dedicated  to  Miss  Elisaveta  Kalitin,  his  dear 
pupil,  by  her  teacher,  С  Т.  G.  Lemm.'  The 
words,  '  Only  the  righteous  are  justified '  and 
'  Elisaveta  Kalitin,'  were  encircled  by  rays. 
Below  was  written  :  '  For  you  alone,  fur  Sie 
allein^  This  was  why  Lemm  had  grown  red, 
and  looked  reproachfully  at  Lisa;  he  was  deeply 
wounded  when  Panshin  spoke  of  lus  cantata 
before  liiiii, 


VI 


Panshtn,  who  was  playinsf  bass,  struck  the 
first  chords  of  the  sonata  loudly  and  decisively, 
but  Lisa  did  not  begin  her  part.  He  stopped 
and  looked  at  her.  Lisa's  eyes  were  fixed 
directly  on  him,  and  expressed  displeasure. 
There  was  no  smile  on  her  lips,  her  whole  face 
looked  stern  and  even  mournful. 

'  What 's  the  matter  ? '  he  asked. 

'  Why  did  you  not  keep  your  word  ? '  she 
said.  '  I  showed  you  Christopher  Fedoritch's 
cantata  on  the  express  condition  that  you  said 
nothing  about  it  to  him  ?  ' 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  Lisaveta  Mihalovna,  the 
words  slipped  out  unawares.' 

*  You  have  hurt  his  feelings  and  mine  too. 
Now  he  will  not  trust  even  me.' 

*  How  could  I  help  it,  Lisaveta  Mihalovna  ? 
Ever  since  I  was  a  little  boy  I  could  never  see 
a  German  without  wanting  to  teaze  him.' 

'  How  can  you  say  that,  Vladimir  Nikolaitch  ? 
This  German  is  poor,  lonely,  and  broken-down 
29 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

— have  you  no  pity  for  him  ?  Can  you  wish  to 
teaze  him  ? ' 

Pansbin  was  a  little  taken  aback. 

*You  are  right,  Lisaveta  Mihalovna/  he  de- 
clared. *  It 's  my  everlasting  thoughtlessness 
that's  to  blame.  No,  don't  contradict  me;  I 
know  myself.  So  much  harm  has  come  to  me 
from  my  want  of  thought.  It 's  owing  to  that 
failing  that  I  am  thought  to  be  an  egoist.' 

Panshin  paused.  With  whatever  subject  he 
began  a  conversation,  he  generally  ended  by 
talking  of  himself,  and  the  subject  was  changed 
by  him  so  easily,  so  smoothly  and  genially,  that 
it  seemed  unconscious. 

'  In  your  own  household,  for  instance,'  he 
went  on,  '  your  mother  certainly  wishes  me  well, 
she  is  so  kind  ;  you — well,  I  don't  know  your 
opinion  of  me  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  your  aunt 
simply  can't  bear  me.  I  must  have  offended  her 
too  by  some  thoughtless,  stupid  speech.  You 
know  I  'm  not  a  favourite  of  hers,  am  I  ?' 

*  No,'  Lisa  admitted  with  some  reluctance, 
'she  doesn't  like  you.' 

Panshin  ran  his  fingers  quickly  over  the  keys, 
and  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile  glided  over  his 
lips. 

'Well,  and  you?'  he  said,  'do  you  too  think 
me  an  egoist?  * 

'  I  know  you  very  little,'  replied  Lisa,  '  but  I 
30 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

don't  consider  you  an  egoist ;  on  the  contrary, 
1  can't  help  feeling  grateful  to  you.' 

'  I  know,  I  know  what  you  mean  to  say,' 
Panshin  interrupted,  and  again  he  ran  his  fin- 
gers over  the  keys :  '  for  the  music  and  the 
books  I  bring  you,  for  the  wretched  sketches 
with  which  I  adorn  your  album,  and  so  forth. 
I  might  do  all  that — and  be  an  egoist  all  the 
same.  I  venture  to  think  that  you  don't  find 
me  a  bore,  and  don't  think  me  a  bad  fellow, 
but  still  you  suppose  that  I — what's  the  saying? 
— would  sacrifice  friend  or  father  for  the  sake 
of  a  witticism.' 

'  You  are  careless  and  forgetful,  like  all  men 
of  the  world,'  observed  Lisa,  '  that  is  all.' 

Panshin  frowned  a  little. 

'Come,'  he  said,  'don't  let  us  discuss  me  any 
more ;  let  us  play  our  sonata.  There 's  only 
one  thing  I  must  beg  of  you,'  he  added,  smooth- 
ing out  the  leaves  of  the  book  on  the  music 
stand,  *  think  what  you  like  of  me,  call  me  an 
an  egoist  even — so  be  it!  but  don't  call  me  a 
man  of  the  world  ;  that  name 's  insufferable  to 
me.  .  .  .  Anch  'to  sono  pittore.  I  too  am  an 
artist,  though  a  poor  one — and  that — I  mean 
that  I'm  a  poor  artist,  I  shall  show  directly. 
Let  us  begin.' 

'  Very  well,  let  us  begin,'  said  Lisa. 

The  first  adagio  went  fairly  successfully 
3» 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

though  Panshin  made  more  than  one  false  note. 
His  own  compositions  and  what  he  had  prac- 
tised thoroughly  he  played  very  nicely,  but  he 
played  at  sight  badly.  So  the  second  part  of 
the  sonata — a  rather  quick  allegro — broke  down 
completely  ;  at  the  twentieth  bar,  Panshin,  who 
was  two  bars  behind,  gave  in,  and  pushed  his 
chair  back  with  a  laugh. 

*  No ! '  he  cried,  '  I  can't  play  to-day  ;  it 's  a 
good  thing  Lemm  did  not  hear  us  ;  he  would 
have  had  a  fit' 

Lisa  got  up,  shut  the  piano,  and  turned 
round  to  Panshin. 

'  What  are  we  going  to  do  ? '  she  asked. 

'That's  just  like  you,  that  question!  You 
can  never  sit  with  your  hands  idle.  Well,  if 
you  like  let  us  sketch,  since  it's  not  quite  dark. 
Perhaps  the  other  muse,  the  muse  of  painting — 
what  was  her  name  ?  I  have  forgotten  . .  .  will 
be  more  propitious  to  me.  Where's  your  album  ? 
I  remember,  my  landscape  there  is  not  finished.' 

Lisa  went  into  the  other  room  to  fetch  the 
album,  and  Panshin,  left  alone,  drew  a  cambric 
handkerchief  out  of  his  pocket,  rubbed  his  nails 
and  looked  as  it  were  critically  at  his  hands. 
He  had  beautiful  white  hands ;  on  the  second 
linger  of  his  left  hand  he  wore  a  spiral  gold 
ring.  Lisa  came  back  ;  Panshin  sat  down  at 
the  window,  and  opened  the  album. 

S2 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  Ah  ! '  he  exclaimed  :  *  I  see  that  you  have 
begun  to  copy  my  landscape — and  capitally  too. 
Excellent !  only  just  here — give  me  a  pencil — 
the  shadows  are  not  put  in  strongly  enough. 
Look.' 

And  Panshin  with  a  flourish  added  a  few  long 
strokes.  He  was  for  ever  drawing  the  same 
landscape :  in  the  foreground  large  dishevelled 
trees,  a  stretch  of  meadow  in  the  background, 
and  jagged  mountains  on  the  horizon.  Lisa 
looked  over  his  shoulders  at  his  work. 

'  In  drawing,  just  as  in  life  generally,'  observed 
Panshin,  holding  his  head  to  right  and  to  left, 
'  lightness  and  boldness — are  the  great  things.' 

At  that  instant  Lemm  came  into  the  room, 
and  with  a  stiff  bow  was  about  to  leave  it ;  but 
Panshin,  throwing  aside  album  and  pencils, 
placed  himself  in  his  way. 

'Where  are  you  going,  dear  Christopher 
Fedoritch  ?  Aren't  you  going  to  stay  and  have 
tea  with  us  ?' 

'  I  go  home,'  answered  Lemm  in  a  surly  voice  ; 
'  my  head  aches.' 

'  Oh,  what  nonsense  ! — do  stop.  We  '11  have 
an  argument  about  Shakespeare.' 

*  My  head  aches,'  repeated  the  old  man. 

*  We  set  to  work  on  the  sonata  of  Beethoven 
without  you,'  continued  Panshin,  taking  hold  of 
him  affectionately  and  smiling   brightly,  'but 

33  с 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

we  couldn't  get  on  at  all.      Fancy,  I  couldn't 
play  two  notes  together  correctly.' 

'  You  'd  better  have  sung  your  song  again/ 
replied  Lemm,  removing  Panshin's  hands,  and 
he  walked  away. 

Lisa  ran  after  him.  She  overtook  him  on  the 
stairs. 

'  Christopher  Fedoritch,  I  want  to  tell  you/ 
she  said  to  him  in  German,  accompanying  him 
over  the  short  green  grass  of  the  yard  to  the 
gate,  *  I  did  wrong — forgive  me.' 

Lemm  made  no  answer. 

'  I  showed  Vladimir  Nikolaitch  your  cantata ; 
I  felt  sure  he  would  appreciate  it, — and  he  did 
like  it  very  much,  really.' 

Lemm  stopped. 

'  It 's  no  matter,'  he  said  in  Russian,  and  then 
added  in  his  own  language,  *  but  he  cannot 
understand  anything ;  how  is  it  you  don't  see 
that  ?     He 's  a  dilettante— and  that 's  all  1 ' 

'You  are  unjust  to  him/  replied  Lisa,  'he 
understands  everything,  and  he  can  do  almost 
everything  himself.' 

'Yes,  everything  second-rate,  cheap,  scamped 
work.  That  pleases,  and  he  pleases,  and  he 
is  glad  it  is  so — and  so  much  the  better.  I  'm 
not  angry ;  the  cantata  and  I — we  are  a  pair  of 
old  fools ;  I  'm  a  little  ashamed,  but  it 's  no 
matter.' 

34 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*  Forgive  me,  Christopher  Fedoritch/  Lisa  said 
again. 

'  It 's  no  matter,'  he  repeated  again  in  Russian, 
'  you  're  a  good  girl  .  .  .  but  here  is  some  one 
coming  to  see  you.  Good-bye.  You  are  a  very 
good  girl.' 

And  Lemm  moved  with  hastened  steps 
towards  the  gate,  through  which  had  entered 
some  gentleman  unknown  to  him  in  a  grey  coat 
and  a  wide  straw  hat.  Bowing  politely  to  him 
(he   always  saluted  all  new  faces  in  the  town 

of   О ;    from    acquaintances   he   always 

turned  aside  in  the  street — that  was  the 
rule  he  had  laid  down  for  himself),  Lemm 
passed  by  and  disappeared  behind  the  fence. 
The  stranger  looked  after  him  in  amazement, 
and  after  gazing  attentively  at  Lisa,  went 
straight  up  to  her. 


35 


VII 

'You  don't  recognise  me/  he  said,  taking 
off  his  hat,  'but  I  recognised  you  in  spite 
of  its  being  seven  years  since  I  saw  you  last. 
You  were  a  child  then.  I  am  Lavretsky.  Is 
your  mother  at  home  ?     Can  I  see  her? ' 

*  Mamma  will  be  glad  to  see  you,'  replied 
Lisa  ;  '  she  had  heard  of  your  arrival.' 

'  Let  me  see,  I  think  your  name  is  Elisaveta  ?  * 
said  Lavretsky,  as  he  went  up  the  stairs. 
'  Yes.' 

*  I  remember  you  very  well  ;  you  had  even 
then  a  face  one  doesn't  forget.  I  used  to  bring 
you  sweets  in  those  days.' 

Lisa  blushed  and  thought  what  a  queer  man. 
Lavretsky  stopped  for  an  instant  in  the  hall. 
Lisa  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where  Pan- 
shin's  voice  and  laugh  could  be  heard  ;  he  had 
been  communicating  some  gossip  of  the  town 
to  Marya  Dmitrievna,  and  Gedeonovsky,  who  by 
this  time  had  come  in  from  the  garden,  and  he 
was  himself  laughing  aloud  at  the  story  he  was 
36 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

telling.  At  the  name  of  Lavretsky,  Marya 
Dmitrievna  was  all  in  a  flutter.  She  turned  pale 
and  went  up  to  meet  him. 

'  How  do  you  do,  how  do  you  do,  my  dear 
cousin  ? '  she  cried  in  a  plaintive  and  almost 
tearful  voice, '  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  ! ' 

*  How  are  you,  cousin  ? '  replied  Lavretsky, 
with  a  friendly  pressure  of  her  out-stretched 
hand  ;  *  how  has  Providence  been  treating 
you  ? ' 

'  Sit  down,  sit  down,  my  dear  Fedor  Ivanitch. 
Ah,  how  glad  I  am  1  But  let  me  present  my 
daughter  Lisa  to  you.' 

'  I  have  already  introduced  myself  to  Lisa- 
veta  Mihalovna,'  interposed  Lavretsky. 

'Monsieur  Panshin  .  .  .  Sergei  Petrovitch 
Gedeonovsky  .  .  .  Please  sit  down.  When  I 
look  at  you,  I  can  hardly  believe  my  eyes. 
How  are  you  ? ' 

'  As  you  see  ;  I  'm  flourishing.  And  you, 
too,  cousin — no  ill-luck  to  you  ! — have  grown 
no  thinner  in  eight  years.' 

'  To  think  how  long  it  is  since  we  met !  * 
observed  Marya  Dmitrievna  dreamily.  '  Where 
have  you  come  from  now?  Where  did  you 
leave  .  .  .  that  is,  I  meant  to  say,'  she  put  in 
hastily,  '  I  meant  to  say,  are  you  going  to  be 
with  us  for  long  ? ' 

'  I  have  come  now  from  Berlin,'  replied  Lav- 
37 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

retsky,   'and   to-morrow   I   shall   go   into   the 
country — probably  for  a  long  time.' 

*  You  will  live  at  Lavriky,  I  suppose  ? ' 

*  No,  not  at  Lavriky  ;  I  have  a  little  place, 
twenty  miles  from  here :  I  am  going  there.' 

*  Is  that  the  little  estate  that  came  to  you 
from  Glafira  Petrovna  ? ' 

'  Yes.' 

'  Really,  Fedor  Ivanitch !  You  have  such  a 
magnificent  house  at  Lavriky.' 

Lavretsky  knitted  his  brows  a  little. 

'  Yes  . .  .  but  there's  a  small  lodge  in  this  little 
property,  and  I  need  nothing  more  for  a  time. 
That  place  is  the  most  convenient  for  me 
now.' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  was  again  thrown  into 
such  a  state  of  agitation  that  she  became  quite 
stiff,  and  her  hands  hung  lifeless  by  her  sides 
Panshin  came  to  her  support  by  entering  into 
conversation  with  Lavretsky.  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna regained  her  composure,  she  leaned  back 
in  her  arm-chair  and  now  and  then  put  in  a 
word.  But  she  looked  all  the  while  with  such 
sympathy  at  her  guest,  sighed  so  significantly, 
and  shook  her  head  so  dejectedly,  that  the 
latter  at  last  lost  patience  and  asked  her  rather 
sharply  if  she  was  unwell. 

'  Thank  God,  no,'  replied  Marya  Dmitrievna  ; 
'  why  do  you  ask  ? ' 

38 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

'Oh,  I  fancied  you  didn't  seem  to  be  quite 
yourself.' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  assumed  a  dignified  and 
somewhat  offended  air.  '  If  that 's  how  the 
land  lies/  she  thought,  *  it 's  absolutely  no 
matter  to  me  ;  I  see,  my  good  fellow,  it 's  all 
like  water  on  a  duck's  back  for  you  ;  any  other 
man  would  have  wasted  away  with  grief,  but 
you  've  grown  fat  on  it.'  Marya  Dmitrievna  did 
not  mince  matters  in  her  own  mind :  she 
expressed  herself  with  more  elegance  aloud. 

Lavretsky  certainly  did  not  look  like  the 
victim  of  fate.  His  rosy-cheeked  typical  Rus- 
sian face,  with  its  large  white  brow,  rather  thick 
nose,  and  wide  straight  lips  seemed  breathing 
with  the  wild  health  of  the  steppes,  with  vigorous 
primaeval  energy.  He  was  splendidly  well- 
built,  and  his  fair  curly  hair  stood  up  on  his 
head  like  a  boy's.  It  was  only  in  his  blue  eyes, 
with  their  over-hanging  brows  and  somewhat 
fixed  look,  that  one  could  trace  an  expression, 
not  exactly  of  melancholy,  nor  exactly  of  weari- 
ness, and  his  voice  had  almost  too  measured  a 
cadence. 

Panshin  meanwhile  continued  to  keep  up  the 
conversation.  He  turned  it  upon  the  profits  of 
sugar-boiling,  on  which  he  had  lately  read  two 
French  pamphlets,  and  with  modest  composure 
undertook  to  expound  their  contents,  without 
39 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

mentioning,  however,  a  single  word  about  the 
source  of  his  information. 

'  Good  God,  it  is  Fedya  ! '  came  through  the 
half-opened  door  the  voice  of  Marfa  Timofyevna 
in  the  next  room.  '  Fedya  himself ! '  and  the  old 
woman  ran  hurriedly  into  the  room.  Lavretsky 
had  not  time  to  get  up  from  his  seat  before  she 
had  him  in  her  arms.  '  Let  me  have  a  look  at 
you,'  she  said,  holding  his  face  off  at  arm's  length. 
'  Ah  !  what  a  splendid  fellow  you  are  !  You  've 
grown  older  a  little,  but  not  a  bit  changed  for 
the  worse,  upon  my  word !  But  why  are  you 
kissing  my  hands — kiss  my  face  if  you  're  not 
afraid  of  my  wrinkled  cheeks.  You  never  asked 
after  me — whether  your  aunt  was  alive — I  war- 
rant :  and  you  were  in  my  arms  as  soon  as  you 
were  born,  you  great  rascal !  Well,  that  is 
nothing  to  you,  I  suppose ;  why  should  you 
remember  me  ?  But  it  was  a  good  idea  of  yours 
to  come  back.  And  pray,'  she  added,  turning 
to  Marya  Dmitrievna,  'have  you  offered  him 
something  to  eat  ? ' 

'  I  don't  want  anything/  Lavretsky  hastened 
to  declare. 

*  Come,  you  must  at  least  have  some  tea,  my 
dear.  Lord  have  mercy  on  us !  He  has  come 
from  I  don't  know  where,  and  they  don't  even 
give  him  a  cup  of  tea  !  Lisa,  run  and  stir  them 
up,  and  make  haste.  I  remember  he  was  dread- 
40 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

fully  greedy  when  he  was  a  little  fellow,  and  he 
likes  good  things  now,  I  daresay.' 

'  My  respects,  Marfa  Timofyevna/  said  Pan- 
shin,  approaching  the  delighted  old  lady  from 
one  side  with  a  low  bow. 

'  Pardon  me,  sir,'  replied  Marfa  Timofyevna, 
'  for  not  observing  you  in  my  delight.  You  have 
grown  like  your  mother,  the  poor  darling,'  she 
went  on,  turning  again  to  Lavretsky,  '  but  your 
nose  was  always  your  father's,  and  your  father's 
it  has  remained.  Well,  and  are  you  going  to  be 
with  us  for  long  ? ' 

*  I  am  going  to-morrow,  aunt.' 
'Where.?' 

*  Home  to  Vassilyevskoe.* 
'  To-morrow  ? ' 

*  Yes,  to-morrow.' 

*  Well,  if  to-morrow  it  must  be.  God  bless 
you — you  know  best.  Only  mind  you  come 
and  say  good-bye  to  me.'  The  old  woman 
patted  his  cheek.  '  I  did  not  think  I  should  be 
here  to  see  you  ;  not  that  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  die  yet  a  while — I  shall  last  another  ten 
years,  I  daresay  :  all  we  Pestovs  live  long  ;  your 
late  grandfather  used  to  say  we  had  two  lives  ; 
but  you  see  there  was  no  telling  how  much 
longer  you  were  going  to  dangle  about  abroad. 
Well,  you  're  a  fine  lad,  a  fine  lad  ;  can  you  lift 
twenty  stone  with  one  hand  as  you  used  to  do, 

41 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

eh?  Your  late  papa  was  fantastical  in  some 
things,  if  I  n)ay  say  so  ;  but  he  did  well  in 
having  that  Swiss  to  bring  you  up  ;  do  you  re- 
member you  used  to  fight  with  your  fists  with 
him? — gymnastics,  wasn't  it  they  called  it? 
But  there,  why  I  am  gabbling  away  like  this  ;  I 
have  only  been  hindering  Mr.  Panshi'n  (she  never 
pronounced  his  name  Pdnshin  as  was  correct) 
from  holding  forth.  Besides,  we  'd  better  go 
and  have  tea  ;  yes,  let 's  go  on  to  the  terrace, 
my  boy,  and  drink  it  there ;  we  have  some  real 
cream,  not  like  what  you  get  in  your  Londons 
and  Parises.  Come  along,  come  along,  and  you, 
Fedusha,  give  me  your  arm.  Oh  !  but  what  an 
arm  it  is !  Upon  my  word,  no  fear  of  my 
stumbling  with  you  ! ' 

Every  one  got  up  and  went  out  on  to  the 
terrace,  except  Gedeonovsky,  who  quietly  took 
his  departure.  During  the  whole  of  Lavretsky's 
conversation  with  Marya  Dmitrievna,  Panshin, 
and  Marfa  Timofyevna,  he  sat  in  a  corner, 
blinking  attentively,  with  an  open  mouth  of 
childish  curiosity ;  now  he  was  in  haste  to 
spread  the  news  of  the  new  arrival  through 
the  town. 

•  ••••• 

At  eleven  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  same 
day,  this  is  what  was  happening  in  Madame 
Kalitin's  house.    Down-stairs,  Vladimir  Nikola- 
42 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

itch,  seizing  a  favourable  moment,  was  taking 
leave  of  Lisa  at  the  drawing-room  door,  and 
saying  to  her,  as  he  held  her  hand,  '  You  know 
who  it  is  draws  me  here ;  you  know  why  I  am 
constantly  coming  to  your  house  ;  what  need  of 
words  when  all  is  clear  as  it  is  ? '  Lisa  did  not 
speak,  and  looked  on  the  ground,  without  smil- 
ing, with  her  brows  slightly  contracted,  and  a 
flush  on  her  cheek,  but  she  did  not  draw  away 
her  hands.  While  up-stairs,  in  Marfa  Timof- 
yevna's  room,  by  the  light  of  a  little  lamp 
hanging  before  the  tarnished  old  holy  images, 
Lavretsky  was  sitting  in  a  low  chair,  his  elbows 
on  his  knees  and  his  face  buried  in  his  hands  ; 
the  old  woman,  standing  before  him,  now  and 
then  silently  stroked  his  hair.  He  spent  more 
than  an  hour  with  her,  after  taking  leave  of  his 
hostess  ;  he  had  scarcely  said  anything  to  his 
kind  old  friend,  and  she  did  not  question  him. 
.  .  .  Indeed,  what  need  to  speak,  what  was 
there  to  ask  ?  Without  that  she  understood 
all,  and  felt  for  everything  of  which  his  heart 
was  full. 


43 


VIII 

Fedor  Ivanitch  Lavretsky — we  must  ask 
the  reader's  permission  to  break  off  the  thread 
of  our  story  for  a  time — came  of  an  old  noble 
family.  The  founder  of  the  house  of  Lavretsky 
came  over  from  Prussia  in  the  reign  of  Vassili 
the  Blind,  and  received  a  grant  of  two  hundred 
chetverts  of  land  in  Byezhetsk.  Many  of  his 
descendants  filled  various  offices,  and  served 
under  princes  and  persons  of  eminence  in  out- 
lying districts,  but  not  one  of  them  rose  above 
the  rank  of  an  inspector  of  the  Imperial  table 
nor  acquired  any  considerable  fortune.  The 
richest  and  most  distinguished  of  all  the 
Lavretskys  was  Fedor  Ivanitch's  great-grand- 
father, Andrei,  a  man  cruel  and  daring,  cunning 
and  able.  Even  to  this  day  stories  still  linger 
of  his  tyranny,  his  savage  temper,  his  reckless 
munificence,  and  his  insatiable  avarice.  He 
was  very  stout  and  tall,  swarthy  of  countenance 
and  beardless,  he  spoke  in  a  thick  voice  and 
seemed  half  asleep  ;  but  the  more  quietly  he 
44 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

spoke,  the  more  those  about  him  trembled.  He 
had  managed  to  get  a  wife  who  was  a  fit  match 
for  him.  She  was  a  gipsy  by  birth,  goggle- 
eyed  and  hook-nosed,  with  a  round  yellow  face. 
She  was  irascible  and  vindictive,  and  never  gave 
way  in  anything  to  her  husband,  who  almost 
killed  her,  and  whose  death  she  did  not  survive, 
though  she  had  been  for  ever  quarrelling  with 
him.  The  son  of  Andrei,  Piotr,  Fedor's  grand- 
father, did  not  take  after  his  father  ;  he  was  a 
typical  landowner  of  the  steppes,  rather  a 
simpleton,  loud-voiced,  but  slow  to  move,  coarse 
but  not  ill-natured,  hospitable  and  very  fond 
of  coursing  with  dogs.  He  was  over  thirty 
when  he  inherited  from  his  father  a  property 
of  two  thousand  serfs  in  capital  condition ; 
but  he  had  soon  dissipated  it,  and  had  partly 
mortgaged  his  estate,  and  demoralised  his 
servants.  All  sorts  of  people  of  low  position, 
known  and  unknown,  came  crawling  like  cock- 
roaches from  all  parts  into  his  spacious,  warm, 
ill-kept  halls.  All  this  mass  of  people  ate 
what  they  could  get,  but  always  had  their 
fill,  drank  till  they  were  drunk,  and  carried 
off  what  they  could,  praising  and  blessing  their 
genial  host ;  and  their  host  too,  when  he  was 
out  of  humour,  blessed  his  guests — for  a  pack 
of  sponging  toadies,  but  he  was  bored  when  he 
was  without  them.  Piotr  Andreitch's  w'fe  was 
45 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

a  meek-spirited  creature  ;  he  had  taken  her  from 
a  neighbouring  family  by  his  father's  choice  and 
command  ;  her  name  was  Anna  Pavlovna.  She 
never  interfered  in  anything,  welcomed  guests 
cordially,  and  readily  paid  visits  herself,  though 
being  powdered,  she  used  to  declare, would  be  the 
death  of  her,  '  They  put,'  she  used  to  say  in 
her  old  age,  *  a  fox's  brush  on  your  head,  comb 
all  the  hair  up  over  it,  smear  it  with  grease,  and 
dust  it  over  with  flour,  and  stick  it  up  with  iron 
pins, — there 's  no  washing  it  off  afterwards  ;  but 
to  pay  visits  without  powder  was  quite  im- 
possible— people  would  be  offended.  Ah,  it 
was  a  torture  ! ' 

She  liked  being  driven  with  fast-trotting  horses, 
and  was  ready  to  play  cards  from  morning  till 
evening,  and  would  always  keep  the  score  of  the 
pennies  she  had  lost  or  won  hidden  under  her 
hand  when  her  husband  came  near  the  card- 
table  ;  but  all  her  dowry,  her  whole  fortune,  she 
had  put  absolutely  at  his  disposal.  She  bore  him 
two  children,  a  son  Ivan,  the  father  of  Fedor, 
and  a  daughter  Glafira.  Ivan  was  not  brought  up 
at  home,  but  lived  with  a  rich  old  maiden  aunt, 
the  Princess  Kubensky  ;  she  had  fixed  on  him 
for  her  heir  (but  for  that  his  father  would  not 
have  let  him  go).  She  dressed  him  up  like  a 
doll,  engaged  all  kinds  of  teachers  for  him,  and 
put  him  in  charge  of  a  tutor,  a  Frenchman,  who 

46 


A  HOUSE  OF  pENTLEFOLK 

had  been  an  abbe,  a  pupil  of  Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau,  a  certain  M.  Courtin  de  Vaucelles, 
a  subtle  and  wily  intriguer — the  very,  as  she 
expressed  it,  fine  fieur  of  emigration — and 
finished  at  almost  seventy  years  old  by  marry- 
ing this  ^ fine  fleurl  and  making  over  all  her 
property  to  him.  Soon  afterwards,  covered 
with  rouge,  and  redolent  of  perfume  d,  la 
Richelieu,  surrounded  by  negro  boys,  delicate- 
shaped  greyhounds  and  shrieking  parrots,  she 
died  on  a  crooked  silken  divan  of  the  time  of 
Louis  XV.,  with  an  enamelled  snuff-box  of 
Petitot's  workmanship  in  her  hand — and  died, 
deserted  by  her  husband  ;  the  insinuating  M. 
Courtin  had  preferred  to  remove  to  Paris  with 
her  money.  Ivan  had  only  reached  his 
twentieth  year  when  this  unexpected  blow  (we 
mean  the  princess's  marriage,  not  her  death) 
fell  upon  him  ;  he  did  not  care  to  stay  in  his 
aunt's  house,  where  he  found  himself  suddenly 
transformed  from  a  wealthy  heir  to  a  poor 
relation  ;  the  society  in  Petersburg  in  which  he 
had  grown  up  was  closed  to  him  ;  he  felt  an 
aversion  for  entering  the  government  service  in 
the  lower  grades,  with  nothing  but  hard  work 
and  obscurity  before  him, — this  was  at  the 
very  beginning  of  the  reign  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander.  He  was  obliged  reluctantly  to 
return  to  the  country  to  his  father.  How 
47 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

squalid,  poor,  and  wretched  his  parents'  home 
seemed  to  him  !  The  stagnation  and  sordid- 
ness  of  life  in  the  country  ofifended  him  at 
every  step.  He  was  consumed  with  ennui. 
Moreover,  every  one  in  the  house,  except  his 
mother,  looked  at  him  with  unfriendly  eyes. 
His  father  did  not  like  his  town  manners,  his 
swallow-tail  coats,  his ,  frilled  shirt-front,  his 
books,  his  flute,  his  fastidious  ways,  in  which  he 
detected — not  incorrectly — a  disgust  for  his 
surroundings  ;  he  was  for  ever  complaining  and 
grumbling  at  his  son.  *  Nothing  here,'  he  used 
to  say,  '  is  to  his  taste  ;  at  table  he  is  all  in  a 
fret,  and  doesn't  eat ;  he  can 't  bear  the  heat 
and  close  smell  of  the  room  ;  the  sight  of  folks 
drunk  upsets  him,  one  daren't  beat  any  one 
before  him  ;  he  doesn't  want  to  go  into  the 
government  service  ;  he 's  weakly,  as  you  see, 
in  health  ;  fie  upon  him,  the  milksop  !  And 
all  this  because  he's  got  his  head  full  of  Vol- 
taire.' The  old  man  had  a  special  dislike  to 
Voltaire,  and  the  '  fanatic '  Diderot,  though  he 
had  not  read  a  word  of  their  works  ;  reading 
was  not  in  his  line.  Piotr  Andreitch  was  not 
mistaken ;  his  son's  head  for  that  matter  was 
indeed  full  of  both  Diderot  and  Voltaire,  and 
not  only  of  them  alone,  of  Rousseau  too,  and 
Helvetius,  and  many  other  writers  of  the  same 
kind — but  they  were  in  his  head  only.  The 
48 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

retired  abbe  and  encyclopedist  who  had  been 
Ivan  Petrovitch's  tutor  had  taken  pleasure  in 
pouring  all  the  wisdom  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury into  his  pupil,  and  he  was  simply  brimming 
over  with  it  ;  it  was  there  in  him,  but  without 
mixing  in  his  blood,  nor  penetrating  to  his  soul, 
nor  shaping  itself  in  any  firm  convictions.  .  .  . 
But,  indeed,  could  one  expect  convictions  from 
a  young  man  of  fifty  years  ago,  when  even  at 
the  present  day  we  have  not  succeeded  in 
attaining  them  ?  The  guests,  too,  who 
frequented  his  father's  house,  were  oppressed 
by  Ivan  Petrovitch's  presence ;  he  regarded 
them  with  loathing,  they  were  afraid  of  him  ; 
and  with  his  sister  Glafira,  who  was  twelve  years 
older  than  he,  he  could  not  get  on  at  all.  This 
Glafira  was  a  strange  creature ;  she  was  ugly, 
crooked,  and  spare,  with  severe,  wide-open  eyes, 
and  thin  compressed  lips.  In  her  face,  her 
voice,  and  her  quick  angular  movements,  she 
took  after  her  grandmother,  the  gipsy,  Andrei's 
wife.  Obstinate  and  fond  of  power,  she  would 
not  even  hear  of  marriage.  The  return  of 
Ivan  Petrovitch  did  not  fit  in  with  her  plans  ; 
while  the  Princess  Kubensky  kept  him  with  her, 
she  had  hoped  to  receive  at  least  half  of  her 
father's  estate  ;  in  her  avarice,  too,  she  was  like 
her  grandmother.  Besides,  Glafira  envied  her 
brother,  he  was  so  well  educated,  spoke  such 
49  D 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

good  French  with  a  Parisian  accent,  while  she 
was  scarcely  able  to  pronounce  '  bon  jour '  or 
'  comment  voiis  portez-vousJ  To  be  sure,  her 
parents  did  not  know  any  French,  but  that  was 
no  comfort  to  her.  Ivan  Petrovitch  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  himself  for  wretchedness 
and  ennui ;  he  had  spent  hardly  a  year  in  the 
country,  but  that  year  seemed  to  him  as  long  as 
ten.  The  only  consolation  he  could  find  was  in 
talking  to  his  mother,  and  he  would  sit  for  whole 
hours  in  her  low-pitched  rooms,  listening  to  the 
good  woman's  simple-hearted  prattle,  and  eat- 
ing preserves.  It  so  happened  that  among 
Anna  Pavlovna's  maids  there  was  one  very 
pretty  girl  with  clear  soft  eyes  and  refined 
features,  Malanya  by  name,  a  modest  intelligent 
creature.  She  took  his  fancy  at  first  sight,  and 
he  fell  in  love  with  her :  he  fell  in  love  with  her 
timid  movements,  her  bashful  answers,  her 
gentle  voice  and  gentle  smile  ;  every  day  she 
seemed  sweeter  to  him.  And  she  became 
devoted  to  Ivan  Petrovitch  with  all  the  strength 
of  her  soul,  as  none  but  Russian  girls  can  be 
devoted — and  she  gave  herself  to  him.  In  the 
large  household  of  a  country  squire  nothing  can 
long  be  kept  a  secret ;  soon  every  one  knew 
of  the  love  between  the  young  master  and 
Malanya ;  the  gossip  even  reached  the  ears 
of  Piotr  Andreitch  himself.  Under  other 
50 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

circumstances,  he  would  probably  have  paid  no 
attention  to  a  matter  of  so  little  importance, 
but  he  had  long  had  a  grudge  against  his  son, 
and  was  delighted  at  an  opportunity  of  humiliat- 
ing the  town-bred  wit  and  dandy.  A  storm  of 
fuss  and  clamour  was  raised  ;  Malanya  was 
locked  up  in  the  pantry,  Ivan  Petrovitch  was 
summoned  into  his  father's  presence.  Anna 
Pavlovna  too  ran  up  at  the  hubbub.  She 
began  trying  to  pacify  her  husband,  but  Piotr 
Andreitch  would  hear  nothing.  He  pounced 
down  like  a  hawk  on  his  son,  reproached 
him  with  immorality,  with  godlessness,  with 
hypocrisy  ;  he  took  the  opportunity  to  vent 
on  him  all  the  wrath  against  the  Princess 
Kubensky  that  had  been  simmering  within 
him,  and  lavished  abusive  epithets  upon  him. 
At  first  Ivan  Petrovitch  was  silent  and  held 
himself  in,  but  when  his  father  thought  fit  to 
threaten  him  with  a  shameful  punishment  he 
could  endure  it  no  longer,  '  Ah,'  he  thought, 
'  the  fanatic  Diderot  is  brought  out  again,  then 
I  will  take  the  bull  by  the  horns,  I  will  astonish 
you  all.'  And  thereupon  with  a  calm  and  even 
voice,  though  quaking  inwardly  in  every  limb, 
Ivan  Petrovitch  declared  to  his  father,  that 
there  was  no  need  to  reproach  him  with  im- 
morality ;  that  though  he  did  not  intend  to 
justify  his  fault  he  was  ready  to  make  amends 
51 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

for  it,  the  more  willingly  as  he  felt  himself  to 
be  superior  to  every  kind  of  prejudice — and  in 
fact — was  ready  to  marry  Malanya.  In  uttering 
these  words  Ivan  Petrovitch  did  undoubtedly 
attain  his  object  ;  he  so  astonished  Piotr 
Andreitch  that  the  latter  stood  open-eyed,  and 
was  struck  dumb  for  a  moment ;  but  instantly 
he  came  to  himself,  and  just  as  he  was,  in  a 
dressing-gown  bordered  with  squirrel  fur  and 
slippers  on  his  bare  feet,  he  flew  at  Ivan 
Petrovitch  with  his  fists.  The  latter,  as  though 
by  design,  had  that  morning  arranged  his  locks 
a  la  Titus,  and  put  on  a  new  English  coat  of  a 
blue  colour,  high  boots  with  little  tassels  and 
very  tight  modish  buckskin  breeches.  Anna 
Pavlovna  shrieked  with  all  her  might  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  ;  but  her  son 
ran  over  the  whole  house,  dashed  out  into  the 
courtyard,  rushed  into  the  kitchen-garden,  into 
the  pleasure-grounds,  and  flew  across  into  the 
road,  and  kept  running  without  looking  round 
till  at  last  he  ceased  to  hear  the  heavy  tramp  of 
his  father's  steps  behind  him  and  his  shouts, 
jerked  out  with  effort,  *  Stop  you  scoundrel ! 
he  cried,  *  stop !  or  I  will  curse  you  ! '  Ivan 
Petrovitch  took  refi  ge  with  a  neighbour,  a 
small  landowner,  and  Piotr  Andreitch  returned 
home  worn  out  and  perspiring,  and  without 
taking  breath,  announced  that  he  should  deprive 
52 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

his  son  of  his  blessing  and  inheritance,  gave 
orders  that  all  his  foolish  books  should  be  burnt, 
and  that  the  girl  Malanya  should  be  sent  to  a 
distant  village  without  loss  of  time.  Some 
kind-hearted  people  found  out  Ivan  Petrovitch 
and  let  him  know  everything.  Humiliated  and 
driven  to  fury,  he  vowed  he  would  be  revenged 
on  his  father,  and  the  same  night  lay  in  wait 
for  the  peasant's  cart  in  which  Malanya  was 
being  driven  away,  carried  her  off  by  force, 
galloped  off  to  the  nearest  town  with  her  and 
married  her.  He  was  supplied  with  money 
by  the  neighbour,  a  good-natured  retired  marine 
officer,  a  confirmed  tippler,  who  took  an  intense 
delight  in  every  kind  of — as  he  expressed  it — 
romantic  story.  The  next  day  Ivan  Petrovitch 
wrote  an  ironically  cold  and  polite  letter  to  Piotr 
Andreitch,  and  set  off  to  the  village  where  lived 
his  second  cousin,  Dmitri  Pestov,  with  his  sister, 
already  known  to  the  reader,  Marfa  Timofyevna. 
He  told  them  all,  announced  his  intention  to  go 
to  Petersburg  to  try  to  obtain  a  post  there,  and 
besought  them,  at  least  for  a  time,  to  give  his 
wife  a  home.  At  the  word  '  wife '  he  shed  tears, 
and  in  spite  of  his  city  breeding  and  philosophy 
he  bowed  himself  in  humble,  supplicating 
Russian  fashion  at  his  relations'  feet,  and  even 
touched  the  ground  with  his  forehead.  The 
Pestovs,  kind-hearted  and  compassionate  people, 
53 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

readily  agreed  to  his  request.  He  stayed  with 
them  for  three  weeks,  secretly  expecting  a  reply 
from  his  father  ;  but  no  reply  came — and  there 
was  no  chance  of  a  reply  coming.  Piotr 
Andreitch,  on  hearing  of  his  son's  marriage, 
took  to  his  bed,  and  forbade  Ivan  Petrovitch's 
name  to  be  mentioned  before  him  ;  but  his 
mother,  without  her  husband's  knowledge, 
borrowed  from  the  rector,  and  sent  500  roubles 
and  a  little  image  to  his  wife.  She  was  afraid 
to  write,  but  sent  a  message  to  Ivan  Petrov- 
itch  by  a  lean  peasant,  who  could  walk  fifty 
miles  a  day,  that  he  was  not  to  take  it  too 
much  to  heart  ;  that,  please  God,  all  would 
be  arranged,  and  his  father's  wrath  would  be 
turned  to  kindness ;  that  she  too  would  have 
preferred  a  different  daughter-in-law,  but  that 
she  sent  Malanya  Sergyevna  her  motherl> 
blessing.  The  lean  peasant  received  a  rouble, 
asked  permission  to  see  the  new  young  mistress, 
to  whom  he  happened  to  be  godfather,  kissed 
her  hand  and  ran  off  at  his  best  speed. 

And  Ivan  Petrovitch  set  off  to  Petersburg 
with  a  light  heart.  An  unknown  future  awaited 
him  ;  poverty  perhaps  menaced  him,  but  he  had 
broken  away  from  the  country  life  he  detested, 
and  above  all,  he  had  not  been  false  to  his 
teachers,  he  had  actually  put  into  practice  the 
doctrines  of  Rousseau,  Diderot,  and  la  Diclara- 
54 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Hon  des  droits  de  Гкотте.  A  sense  of  having 
done  his  duty,  of  triumph,  and  of  pride  filled  his 
soul ;  and  indeed  the  separation  from  his  wife 
did  not  greatly  afflict  him  ;  he  would  have  been 
more  perturbed  by  the  necessity  of  being  con- 
stantly with  her.  That  deed  was  done,  now 
he  wanted  to  set  about  doing  something  fresh. 
In  Petersburg,  contrary  to  his  own  expectations, 
he  met  with  success ;  the  Princess  Kubensky, 
whom  Monsieur  Courtin  had  by  that  time 
deserted,  but  who  was  still  living,  in  order  to 
make  up  in  some  way  to  her  nephew  for  having 
wronged  him,  gave  him  introductions  to  all  her 
friends,  and  presented  him  with  5000  roubles — 
almost  all  that  remained  of  her  money — and  a 
Lepikovsky  watch  with  his  monogram  encircled 
by  Cupids.  Three  months  had  not  passed 
before  he  obtained  a  position  in  a  Russian  em- 
bassy to  London,  and  in  the  first  English  vessel 
that  sailed  (steamers  were  not  even  talked  of 
then)  he  crossed  the  sea.  A  few  months  later 
he  received  a  letter  from  Pestov.  The  good- 
natured  landowner  congratulated  Ivan  Petrov- 
itch  on  the  birth  of  a  son,  who  had  been  born 
into  the  world  in  the  village  of  Pokrovskoe  on 
the  20th  of  August  1807,  and  named  Fedor,  in 
honour  of  the  holy  martyr  Fedor  Stratilat.  On 
account  of  her  extreme  weakness  Malanya 
Sergyevna  added  only  a  few  lines ;  but  these 
SS 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

few  lines  were  a  surprise,  for  Ivan  Petrovitch ; 
had  not  known  that  Marfa  Timofyevna  had 
taught  his  wife  to  read  and  write.  Ivan 
Petrovitch  did  not  long  abandon  himself  to 
the  sweet  emotion  of  parental  feeling ;  he  was 
dancing  attendance  on  a  notorious  Phryne  or 
Lais  of  the  day  (classical  names  were  still  in 
vogue  at  that  date) ;  the  Peace  of  Tilsit  had 
only  just  been  concluded  and  all  the  world  was 
hurrying  after  pleasure,  in  a  giddy  whirl  of  dis- 
sipation, and  his  head  had  been  turned  by  the 
black  eyes  of  a  bold  beauty.  He  had  very  little 
money,  but  he  was  lucky  at  cards,  made  many 
acquaintances,  took  part  in  all  entertainments, 
in  a  word,  he  was  in  the  swim. 


56 


IX 

For  a  long  time  the  old  Lavretsky  could  not 
forgive  his  son  for  his  marriage.  If  six  months 
later  Ivan  Petrovitch  had  come  to  him  with  a 
penitent  face  and  had  thrown  himself  at  his 
feet,  he  would,  very  likely,  have  pardoned  him, 
after  giving  him  a  pretty  severe  scolding,  and  a 
tap  with  his  stick  by  way  of  intimidating  him, 
but  Ivan  Petrovitch  went  on  living  abroad  and 
apparently  did  not  care  a  straw.  *  Be  silent !  I 
dare  you  to  speak  of  it,'  Piotr  Andreitch  said  to 
his  wife  every  time  she  ventured  to  try  to  incline 
him  to  mercy.  *  The  puppy,  he  ought  to  thank 
God  for  ever  that  I  have  not  laid  my  curse  upon 
him ;  my  father  would  have  killed  him,  the 
worthless  scamp,  with  his  own  hands,  and  he 
would  have  done  right  too.'  At  such  terrible 
speeches  Anna  Pavlovna  could  only  cross 
herself  secretly.  As  for  Ivan  Petrovitch's  wife, 
Piotr  Andreitch  at  first  would  not  even  hear 
her  name,  and  in  answer  to  a  letter  of  Pestov's, 
in  which  he  mentioned  his  daughter-in-law,  he 
went  so  far  as  to  send  him  word  that  he  knew 
47 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

nothing  of  any  daughter-in-law,  and  that  it  was 
forbidden  by  law  to  harbour  run-away  wenches, 
a  fact  which  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  remind 
him  of.  But  later  on,  he  was  softened  by  hear- 
ing of  the  birth  of  a  grandson,  and  he  gave 
orders  secretly  that  inquiries  should  be  made 
about  the  health  of  the  mother,  and  sent  her  a 
little  money,  also  as  though  it  did  not  come  from 
him.  Fedya  was  not  a  year  old  before  Anna 
Pavlovna  fell  ill  with  a  fatal  complaint.  A  few 
days  before  her  end,  when  she  could  no  longer 
leave  her  bed,  with  timid  tears  in  her  eyes,  fast 
growing  dim,  she  informed  her  husband  in  the 
presence  of  the  priest  that  she  wanted  to  see 
her  daughter-in-law  and  bid  her  farewell,  and  to 
give  her  grandchild  her  blessing.  The  heart- 
broken old  man  soothed  her,  and  at  once  sent 
off  his  own  carriage  for  his  daughter-in-law,  for 
the  first  time  giving  her  the  title  of  Malanya 
Sergyevna.  Malanya  came  with  her  son  and 
Marfa  Timofyevna,  who  would  not  on  any 
consideration  allow  her  to  go  alone,  and  was 
unwilling  to  expose  her  to  any  indignity.  Half 
dead  with  fright,  Malanya  Sergyevna  went  into 
Piotr  Andreitch's  room.  A  nurse  followed, 
carrying  Fedya.  Piotr  Andreitch  looked  at 
her  without  speaking  ;  she  went  up  to  kiss  his 
hand  ;  her  trembling  lips  were  only  just  able  to 
touch  it  with  a  silent  kiss. 
58 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

*Well,  my  upstart  lady/  he  brought  out  at 
last, '  how  do  you  do  ?  let  us  go  to  the  mistress.' 

He  got  up  and  bent  over  Fedya  ;  the  baby 
smiled  and  held  out  his  little  white  hands  to 
him.     This  changed  the  old  man's  mood, 

'  Ah/  he  said,  '  poor  little  one,  you  were 
pleading  for  your  father ;  I  will  not  abandon 
you,  little  bird/ 

Directly  Malanya  Sergyevna  entered  Anna 
Pavlovna's  bedroom,  she  fell  on  her  knees  near 
the  door.  Anna  Pavlovna  beckoned  her  to 
come  to  her  bedside,  embraced  her,  and  blessed 
her  son  ;  then  turning  a  face  contorted  by  cruel 
suffering  to  her  husband  she  made  an  effort  to 
speak. 

'  I  know,  I  know,  what  you  want  to  ask," 
said  Piotr  Andreitch  ;  *  don't  fret  yourself,  she 
shall  stay  with  us,  and  I  will  forgive  Vanka  for 
her  sake.* 

With  an  effort  Anna  Pavlovna  took  her 
husband's  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips. 
The  same  evening  she  breathed  her  last. 

Piotr  Andreitch  kept  his  word.  He  informed 
his  son  that  for  the  sake  of  his  mother's  dying 
hours,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  little  Fedor,  he 
sent  him  his  blessing  and  was  keeping  Malanya 
Sergyevna  in  his  house.  Two  rooms  on  the 
ground  floor  were  devoted  to  her  ;  he  presented 
her  to  his  most  honoured  guests,  the  one-eyed 
59 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

brigadier  Skurehin,  and  his  wife,  and  bestowed 
on  her  two  waiting-maids  and  a  page  for  errands. 
Marfa  Timofyevna  took  leave  of  her ;  she 
detested  Glafira,  and  in  the  course  of  one  day- 
had  fallen  out  with  her  three  times. 

It  was  a  painful  and  embarrassing  position  at 
first  for  poor  Malanya,  but,  after  a  while,  she 
learnt  to  bear  it,  and  grew  used  to  her  father- 
in-law.  He,  too,  grew  accustomed  to  her,  and 
even  fond  of  her,  though  he  scarcely  ever  spoke 
to  her,  and  a  certain  involuntary  contempt  was 
perceptible  even  in  his  signs  of  affection  to  her. 
Malanya  Sergyevna  had  most  to  put  up  with 
from  her  sister-in-law.  Even  during  her 
mother's  lifetime,  Glafira  had  succeeded  by 
degrees  in  getting  the  whole  household  into  her 
hands  ;  every  one,  from  her  father  downwards, 
submitted  to  her  rule  ;  not  a  piece  of  sugar  was 
given  out  without  her  sanction ;  she  would 
rather  have  died  than  shared  her  authority 
with  another  mistress — and  with  such  a  mis- 
tress !  Her  brother's  marriage  had  incensed 
her  even  more  than  Piotr  Andreitch ;  she 
set  herself  to  give  the  upstart  a  lesson,  and 
Malanya  Sergyevna  from  the  very  first  hour 
was  her  slave.  And,  indeed,  how  was  she  to 
contend  against  the  masterful,  haughty  Glafira, 
submissive,  constantly  bewildered,  timid,  and 
weak  in  health  as  she  was  ?  Not  a  day  passed 
60 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

without  Glafira  reminding  her  of  her  former 
position,  and  commending  her  for  not  forget- 
ting herself.  Malanya  Sergyevna  could  have 
reconciled  herself  readily  to  these  reminiscences 
and  commendations,  however  bitter  they  might 
be — but  Fedya  was  taken  away  from  her,  that 
was  what  crushed  her.  On  the  pretext  that  she 
was  not  capable  of  undertaking  his  education, 
she  was  scarcely  allowed  to  see  him  ;  Glafira 
set  herself  to  that  task  ;  the  child  was  put  abso- 
lutely under  her  control.  Malanya  Sergyevna 
began,  in  her  distress,  to  beseech  Ivan  Petrov- 
itch,  in  her  letters,  to  return  home  soon. 
Piotr  Andreitch  himself  wanted  to  see  his 
son,  but  Ivan  Petrovitch  did  nothing  but  write. 
He  thanked  his  father  on  his  wife's  account, 
and  for  the  money  sent  him,  promised  to  return 
quickly — and  did  not  come.  The  year  1 812  at 
last  summoned  him  home  from  abroad.  When 
they  met  again,  after  six  years'  absence,  the 
father  embraced  his  son,  and  not  by  a  single 
word  made  allusion  to  their  former  differences  ; 
it  was  not  a  time  for  that  now,  all  Russia  was 
rising  up  against  the  enemy,  and  both  of  them 
felt  that  they  had  Russian  blood  in  their  veins. 
Piotr  Andreitch  equipped  a  whole  regiment  of 
volunteers  at  his  own  expense.  But  the  war 
came  to  an  end,  the  danger  was  over ;  Ivan 
Petrovitch  began  to  be  bored  again,  and  again 
61 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

he  felt  drawn  away  to  the  distance,  to  the  world 
in  which  he  had  grown  up,  and  where  he  felt 
himself  at  home.  Malanya  Sergyevna  could 
not  keep  him ;  she  meant  too  little  to  him. 
Even  her  fondest  hopes  came  to  nothing  ;  her 
husband  considered  that  it  was  much  more  suit- 
able to  intrust  Fedya's  education  to  Glafira. 
Ivan  Petrovitch's  poor  wife  could  not  bear  this 
blow,  she  could  not  bear  a  second  separation ; 
in  a  few  days,  without  a  murmur,  she  quietly 
passed  away.  All  her  life  she  had  never  been 
able  to  oppose  anything,  and  she  did  not 
struggle  against  her  illness.  When  she  could 
no  longer  speak,  when  the  shadows  of  death 
tvere  already  on  her  face,  her  features  expressed, 
as  of  old,  bewildered  resignation  and  constant, 
uncomplaining  meekness  ;  with  the  same  dumb 
submissiveness  she  looked  at  Glafira,  and  just 
as  Anna  Pavlovna  kissed  her  husband's  hand  on 
her  deathbed,  she  kissed  Glafira's,  commending 
to  her,  to  Glafira,  her  only  son.  So  ended  the 
earthly  existence  of  this  good  and  gentle 
creature,  torn,  God  knows  why,  like  an  uprooted 
tree  from  its  natural  soil  and  at  once  thrown 
down  with  its  roots  in  the  air ;  she  had  faded 
and  passed  away,  leaving  no  trace,  and  no  one 
mourned  for  her.  Malanya  Sergyevna's  maids 
pitied  her,  and  so  did  even  Piotr  Andreitch. 
The  old  man  missed  her  silent  presence.  '  For- 
62 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

give  me  .  .  .  farewell,  my  meek  one !  *  he  whis- 
pered, as  he  took  leave  of  her  the  last  time  in 
church.  He  wept  as  he  threw  a  handful  of 
earth  in  the  grave. 

He  did  not  survive  her  long,  not  more  than 
five  years.  In  the  winter  of  the  year  1 8 19,  he 
died  peacefully  in  Moscow,  where  he  had  moved 
with  Glafira  and  his  grandson,  and  left  instruc- 
tions that  he  should  be  buried  beside  Anna 
Pavlovna  and  '  Malasha.*  Ivan  Petrovitch  was 
then  in  Paris  amusing  himself;  he  had  retired 
from  service  soon  after  181 5.  When  he  heard 
of  his  father's  death  he  decided  to  return  to 
Russia.  It  was  necessary  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  management  of  the  property. 
Fedya,  according  to  Glafira's  letter,  had  reached 
his  twelfth  year,  and  the  time  had  come  to  set 
about  his  education  in  earnest 


63 


Ivan  Petrovitch  returned  to  Russia  an 
Anglomaniac.  His  short-cropped  hair,  his 
starched  shirt-front,  his  long-skirted  pea-green 
overcoat  with  its  multitude  of  capes,  the  sour 
expression  of  his  face,  something  abrupt  and 
at  the  same  time  indifferent  in  his  behaviour, 
his  way  of  speaking  through  his  teeth,  his 
sudden  wooden  laugh,  the  absence  of  smiles,  his 
exclusively  political  or  politico-economical  con- 
versation, his  passion  for  roast  beef  and  port 
wine — everything  about  him  breathed,  so  to 
speak,  of  Great  Britain,  But,  marvellous  to 
relate,  while  he  had  been  transformed  into  an 
Anglomaniac,  Ivan  Petrovitch  had  at  the  same 
time  become  a  patriot,  at  least  he  called  himself 
a  patriot,  though  he  knew  Russia  little,  had  not 
retained  a  single  Russian  habit,  and  expressed 
himself  in  Russian  rather  queerly ;  in  ordinary 
conversation,  his  language  was  spiritless  and 
inanimate  and  constantly  interspersed  with 
Gallicisms. 

64 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Ivan  Petrovitch  brought  with  him  a  few 
schemes  in  manuscript,  relating  to  the  adminis- 
tration and  reform  of  the  government;  he  was 
much  displeased  with  everything  he  saw  ;  the 
lack  of  system  especially  aroused  his  spleen. 
On  his  meeting  with  his  sister,  at  the  first 
word  he  announced  to  her  that  he  was  deter- 
mined to  introduce  radical  reforms,  that  hence- 
forth everything  to  do  with  him  would  be  on 
a  different  system.  Glafira  Petrovna  made 
no  reply  to  Ivan  Petrovitch  ;  she  only  ground 
her  teeth  and  thought :  '  Where  am  I  to  take 
refuge  ? '  After  she  was  back  in  the  country, 
however,  with  her  brother  and  nephew,  her  fears 
were  soon  set  at  rest.  In  the  house,  certainly, 
some  changes  were  made;  idlers  anc  dependants 
met  with  summary  dismissal;  among  them 
two  old  women  were  made  to  suffer,  one  blind, 
another  broken  down  by  paralysis ;  and  also  a 
decrepit  major  of  the  days  of  Catherine,  who,  on 
account  of  his  really  abnormal  appetite,  was  fed 
on  nothing  but  black  bread  and  lentils.  The 
order  went  forth  not  to  admit  the  guests  of 
former  days  ;  they  were  replaced  by  a  distant 
neighbour,  a  certain  fair-haired,  scrofulous  baron,, 
a  very  well  educated  and  very  stupid  man.  New 
furniture  was  brought  from  Moscow  ;  spittoons 
were  introduced,  and  bells  and  washing-stands  ; 
and  breakfast  began  to  be  served  in  a  different 
65  E 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

way ;  foreign  wines  replaced  vodka  and  syrups  , 
the  servants  were  put  into  new  livery ;  a  motto 
was  added  to  the  family  arms :  in  recto  virtus. 
,  .  .  In  reality,  Glafira's  power  suffered  no 
diminution  ;  the  giving  out  and  buying  of 
stores  still  depended  on  her.  The  Alsatian 
steward,  brought  from  abroad,  tried  to  fight  it 
out  with  her  and  lost  his  place,  in  spite  of  the 
master's  protection.  As  for  the  management  of 
the  house,  and  the  administration  of  the  estates, 
Glafira  Petrovna  had  undertaken  these  duties 
also  ;  in  spite  of  Ivan  Petrovitch's  intention, — 
more  than  once  expressed — to  breathe  new  life 
into  this  chaos,  everything  remained  as  before ; 
only  the  rent  was  in  some  places  raised,  the 
mistress  was  more  strict,  and  the  peasants 
were  forbidden  to  apply  direct  to  Ivan  Petrov- 
itch.  The  patriot  had  already  a  great  con- 
tempt for  his  fellow-countrymen.  Ivan  Petrov- 
itch's system  was  applied  in  its  full  force  only 
to  Fedya  ;  his  education  really  underwent  a 
'  radical  reformation  ; '  his  father  devoted  him- 
self exclusively  to  it 


66 


XI 


Until  Ivan  Petrovitch's  return  from  abroad, 
Fedya  was,  as  already  related,  in  the  hands  oi 
Glafira  Petrovna.  He  was  not  eight  years  old 
when  his  mother  died  ;  he  did  not  see  her  every 
day,  and  loved  her  passionately  ;  the  memory 
of  her,  of  her  pale  and  gentle  face,  of  her  de- 
jected looks  and  timid  caresses,  were  imprinted 
on  his  heart  for  ever  ;  but  he  vaguely  under- 
stood her  position  in  the  house  ;  he  felt  that 
between  him  and  her  there  existed  a  barrier 
which  she  dared  not  and  could  not  break  down. 
He  was  shy  of  his  father,  and,  indeed,  Ivan 
Petrovitch  on  his  side  never  caressed  him  ;  his 
grandfather  sometimes  patted  him  on  the  head 
and  gave  him  his  hand  to  kiss,  but  he  thought 
him  and  called  him  a  little  fool.  After  the 
death  of  Malanya  Sergyevna,  his  aunt  finally  got 
him  under  her  control.  Fedya  was  afraid  of  her: 
he  was  afraid  of  her  bright  sharp  eyes  and  her 
harsh  voice  ;  he  dared  not  utter  a  sound  in  her 
presence  ;  often,  when  he  only  moved  a  little  in 
67 


A    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

his  chair,  she  would  hiss  out  at  once  :  '  What  are 
you  doing?  sit  still.'  On  Sundays,  after  mass, 
he  was  allowed  to  play,  that  is  to  say,  lie  was 
given  a  thick  book,  a  mysterious  book,  the  work 
of  a  certain  Maxiraovitch-Ambodik,  entitled 
'  Symbols  and  Emblems.'  This  book  was  a 
medley  of  about  a  thousand  mostly  very  enig- 
matical pictures,  and  as  many  enigmatical 
interpretations  of  them  in  five  languages.  Cupid 
— naked  and  very  puffy  in  the  body — played  a 
leading  part  in  these  illustrations.  In  one  of 
them,  under  the  heading,  'Saffron  and  the  Rain- 
bow,' the  interpretation  appended  was  :  *  Of  this, 
the  influence  is  vast ; '  opposite  another,  entitled 
'  A  heron,  flying  with  a  violet  in  his  beak,'  stood 
the  inscription :  '  To  thee  they  are  all  known.' 
'Cupid  and  the  bear  licking  his  fur*  was  in- 
scribed, *  Little  by  little.'  Fedya  used  to 
ponder  over  these  pictures  ;  he  knew  them  all 
to  the  minutest  details  ;  some  of  them,  always 
the  same  ones,  used  to  set  him  dreaming,  and 
afforded  him  food  for  meditation  ;  he  knew  no 
other  amusements.  When  the  time  came  to 
teach  him  languages  and  music,  Glafira  Petrovna 
engaged,  for  next  to  nothing,  an  old  maid,  a 
Swede,  with  eyes  like  a  hare's,  who  spoke 
French  and  German  with  mistakes  in  every 
alternate  word,  played  after  a  fashion  on  the 
piano,  and  above  all,  salted  cucumbers  to  per- 
68 


A    HOUSE   OF   r.ENTLEFOLK 

fection.  In  the  society  of  this  governess,  his 
aunt,  and  the  old  servant  maid,  Vassilycvna, 
Fedya  spent  four  whole  years.  Often  he  would 
sit  in  the  corner  with  his  '  Emblems ' ;  he  sat 
there  endlessly  ;  there  was  a  scent  of  geranium 
in  the  low  pitched  room,  the  solitary  candle 
burnt  dim,  the  cricket  chirped  monotonously,  as 
though  it  were  weary,  the  little  clock  ticked 
away  hurriedly  on  the  wall,  a  mouse  scratched 
stealthily  and  gnawed  at  the  wall-paper,  and  the 
three  old  women,  like  the  Fates,  swiftly  and 
silently  plied  their  knitting-needles,  the  shadows 
raced  after  their  hands  and  quivered  strangely  in 
the  half  darkness,  and  strange,  half  dark  ideas 
swarmed  in  the  child's  brain.  No  one  would  have 
called  Fedya  an  interesting  child  ;  he  was  rather 
pale,  but  stout,  clumsily  built  and  awkward — a 
thorough  peasant,  as  Glafira  Petrovna  said  ;  the 
pallor  would  soon  have  vanished  from  his 
cheeks,  if  he  had  been  allowed  oftener  to  be 
in  the  open  air.  He  learnt  fairly  quickly, 
though  he  was  often  lazy ;  he  never  cried,  but 
at  times  he  was  overtaken  by  a  fit  of  savage 
obstinacy;  then  no  one  could  soften  him.  Fedya 
loved  no  one  among  those  around  him.  . 
Woe  to  the  b.eart  that  has  not  loved  in  youth ! 

Thus  Ivan  Petrovitch  found  him,  and  without 
loss  of  time  he  set  to  work  to  apply  his  system 
to  him. 

69 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

•  I  want  above  all  to  make  a  man,  un  homme, 
of  him,'  he  said  to  Glafira  Petrovna,  '  and  not 
only  a  man,  but  a  Spartan.'  Ivan  Petrovitch 
began  carrying  out  his  intentions  by  putting 
his  son  in  a  Scotch  kilt ;  the  twelve-year-old 
boy  had  to  go  about  with  bare  knees  and  a 
plume  stuck  in  his  Scotch  cap.  The  Swedish 
lady  was  replaced  by  a  young  Swiss  tutor,  who 
was  versed  in  gymnastics  to  perfection.  Music, 
as  a  pursuit  unworthy  of  a  man,  was  discarded. 
The  natural  sciences,  international  law,  mathe- 
matics, carpentry,  after  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau's 
precept,  and  heraldry,  to  encourage  chivalrous 
feelings,  were  what  the  future  '  man '  was  to  be 
occupied  with.  He  was  waked  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  splashed  at  once  with  cold 
water  and  set  to  running  round  a  high  pole 
with  a  cord  ;  he  had  only  one  meal  a  day,  con- 
sisting of  a  single  dish  ;  rode  on  horseback;  shot 
with  a  cross-bow  ;  at  every  convenient  oppor- 
tunity he  was  exercised  in  acquiring  after  his 
parent's  example  firmness  of  will,  and  every 
evening  he  inscribed  in  a  special  book  an 
account  of  the  day  and  his  impressions ;  and 
Ivan  Petrovitch  on  his  side  wrote  him  instruc- 
tions in  French  in  which  he  called  him  monjils, 
and  addressed  him  as  vous.  In  Russian  Fedya 
called  his  father  tkou,  but  did  not  dare  to  sit 
down  in  his  presence.  The  '  system '  dazed  the 
70 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

boy,  confused  and  cramped  his  intellect,  but  his 
health  on  the  other  hand  was  benefited  by  the 
new  manner  of  life ;  at  first  he  fell  into  a  fever 
but  soon  recovered  and  began  to  grow  stout 
and  strong.  His  father  was  proud  of  him  and 
called  him  in  his  strange  jargon  'a  child  of 
nature,  my  creation.'  When  Fedya  had  reached 
his  sixteenth  year,  Ivan  Petrovitch  thought  it 
his  duty  in  good  time  to  instil  into  him  a  con- 
tempt for  the  female  sex ;  and  the  young 
Spartan,  with  timidity  in  his  heart  and  the  first 
down  on  his  lip,  full  of  sap  and  strength  and 
young  blood,  already  tried  to  seem  indifferent, 
cold,  and  rude. 

Meanwhile  time  was  passing.  Ivan  Petro- 
vitch spent  the  greater  part  of  the  year  in 
Lavriky  (that  was  the  name  of  the  principal 
estate  inherited  from  his  ancestors).  But  in  the 
winter  he  used  to  go  to  Moscow  alone ;  there 
he  stayed  at  a  tavern,  diligently  visited  the 
club,  made  speeches  and  developed  his  plans  in 
drawing-rooms,  and  in  his  behaviour  was  more 
than  ever  Anglomaniac,  grumbling  and  poli- 
tical. But  the  year  1825  came  and  brought 
much  sorrow.  Intimate  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances of  Ivan  Petrovitch  underwent  painful 
experiences.  Ivan  Petrovitch  made  haste  to 
withdraw  into  the  country  and  shut  himself  up 
in  his  house.  Another  year  passed  by,  and 
71 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

suddenly  Ivan  Petrovitch  grew  feeble,  and 
ailing ;  his  health  began  to  break  up.  He,  the 
free-thinker,  began  to  go  to  church  and  have 
prayers  put  up  for  him ;  he,  the  European, 
began  to  sit  in  steam-baths,  to  dine  at  two 
o'clock,  to  go  to  bed  at  nine,  and  to  doze  off  to 
the  sound  of  the  chatter  of  the  old  steward  ;  he, 
the  man  of  political  ideas,  burnt  all  his  schemes, 
all  his  correspondence,  trembled  before  the 
governor,  and  was  uneasy  at  the  sight  of  the 
police-captain  ;  he,  the  man  of  iron  will,  whim- 
pered and  complained,  Avhen  he  had  a  gumboil 
or  when  they  gave  him  a  plate  of  cold  soup. 
Glafira  Petrovna  again  took  control  of  everything 
in  the  house  ;  once  more  the  overseers,  bailiffs 
and  simple  peasants  began  to  come  to  the  back 
stairs  to  speak  to  the  'old  witch,'  as  the  ser- 
vants called  her.  The  change  in  Ivan  Petro- 
vitch produced  a  powerful  impression  on  his 
son.  He  had  now  reached  his  nineteenth  year, 
and  had  begun  to  reflect  and  to  emancipate 
himself  from  the  hand  that  pressed  like  a 
weight  upon  him.  Even  before  this  time  he 
had  observed  a  little  discrepancy  between  his 
father's  words  and  deeds,  between  his  wide 
liberal  theories  and  his  harsh  petty  despotism  ; 
but  he  had  not  expected  such  a  complete  break- 
down. His  confirmed  egoism  was  patent  now 
in  everything.  Young  Lavretsky  was  getting 
72 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

ready  to  go  to  Moscow,  to  prepare  for  the 
university,  when  a  new  unexpected  calamity 
overtook  Ivan  Petrovitch ;  he  became  blind, 
and  hopelessly  blind,  in  one  day. 

Having  no  confidence  in  the  skill  of  Russian 
doctors,  he  began  to  make  efforts  to  obtain  per- 
mission to  go  abroad.  It  was  refused.  Then  he 
took  his  son  with  him  and  for  three  whole  years 
was  wandering  about  Russia,  from  one  doctor 
to  another,  incessantly  moving  from  one  town 
to  another,  and  driving  his  physicians,  his  son, 
and  his  servants  to  despair  by  his  cowardice  and 
impatience.  He  returned  to  Lavriky  a  perfect 
wreck,  a  tearful  and  capricious  child.  Bitter 
days  followed,  every  one  had  much  to  put  up  with 
from  him.  Ivan  Petrovitch  was  only  quiet  when 
he  was  dining  ;  he  had  never  been  so  greedy 
and  eaten  so  much  ;  all  the  rest  of  the  time  he 
gave  himself  and  others  no  peace.  He  prayed, 
cursed  his  fate,  abused  himself,  abused  politics, 
his  system,  abused  everything  he  had  boasted 
of  and  prided  himself  upon,  everything  he  had 
held  up  to  his  son  as  a  model ;  he  declared 
that  he  believed  in  nothing  and  then  began 
to  pray  again ;  he  could  not  put  up  with 
one  instant  of  solitude,  and  expected  his 
household  to  sit  by  his  chair  continually  day 
and  night,  and  entertain  him  with  stories, 
which  he  constantly  interrupted  with  exclama- 
73 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

tions,  '  You  are  for  ever  lying,  ...  a  pack 
of  nonsense ! ' 

Glafira  Petrovna  was  specially  necessary  to 
him ;  he  absolutely  could  not  get  on  without 
her — and  to  the  end  she  always  carried  out 
every  whim  of  the  sick  man,  though  sometimes 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  answer  at  once, 
for  fear  the  sound  of  her  voice  should  betray  her 
inward  anger.  Thus  he  lingered  on  for  two 
years  and  died  on  the  first  day  of  May,  when 
he  had  been  brought  out  on  to  the  balcony  into 
the  sun.      '  Glasha,  Glashka !    soup,  soup,  old 

foo' his    halting    tongue    muttered    and 

before  he  had  articulated  the  last  word,  it  was 
silent  for  ever.  Glafira  Petrovna,  who  had  only 
just  taken  the  cup  of  soup  from  the  hands  of 
the  steward,  stopped,  looked  at  her  brother's 
face,  slowly  made  a  large  sign  of  the  cross  and 
turned  away  in  silence  ;  and  his  son,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  there,  also  said  nothing  ;  he  leaned 
on  the  railing  of  the  balcony  and  gazed  a  long 
while  into  the  garden,  all  fragrant  and  green, 
and  shining  in  the  rays  of  the  golden  sunshine 
of  spring.  He  was  twenty-three  years  old  ;  how 
terribly,  how  imperceptibly  quickly  those  twenty- 
three  years  had  passed  by!  ,  .  ,  Life  was  open- 
ing before  him. 


74 


хп 

After  burying  his  father  and  intrusting  to  the 
unchanged  Glafira  Petrovna  the  management 
of  his  estate  and  superintendence  of  his  bailiffs, 
young  Lavretsky  went  to  Moscow,  whither  he 
felt  drawn  by  a  vague  but  strong  attraction. 
He  recognised  the  defects  of  his  education,  and 
formed  the  resolution,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
regain  lost  ground.  In  the  last  five  years  he  had 
read  much  and  seen  something  ;  he  had  many 
stray  ideas  in  his  head  ;  any  professor  might 
have  envied  some  of  his  acquirements,  but  at 
the  same  time  he  did  not  know  much  that  every 
schoolboy  would  have  learnt  long  ago.  Lav- 
retsky was  aware  of  his  limitations  ;  he  was 
secretly  conscious  of  being  eccentric.  The 
Anglomaniac  had  done  his  son  an  ill  turn  ;  his 
whimsical  education  had  produced  its  fruits. 
For  long  years  he  had  submitted  unquestion- 
ingly  to  his  father ;  when  at  last  he  began  to 
see  through  him,  the  evil  was  already  done,  his 
habits  were  deeply-rooted.  He  could  not  get 
75 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

on  with  people  ;  at  twenty-three  years  old,  with 
an  unquenchable  thirst  for  love  in  his  shy  heart, 
he  had  never  yet  dared  to  look  one  woman  in 
the  face.  With  his  intellect,  clear  and  sound, 
but  somewhat  heavy,  with  his  tendencies  to 
obstinacy,  contemplation,  and  indolence  he 
ought  from  his  earliest  years  to  have  been 
thrown  into  the  stream  of  life,  and  he  had 
been  kept  instead  in  artificial  seclusion.  And 
now  the  magic  circle  was  broken,  but  he  con- 
tinued to  remain  within  it,  prisoned  and  pent 
up  within  himself.  It  was  ridiculous  at  his  age 
to  put  on  a  student's  dress,  but  he  was  not  afraid 
of  ridicule  ;  his  Spartan  education  had  at  least 
the  good  effect  of  developing  in  him  a  contempt 
for  the  opinion  of  others,  and  he  put  on,  with- 
out embarrassment,  the  academical  uniform. 
He  entered  the  section  of  physics  and  mathe- 
matics. Robust,  rosy-cheeked,  bearded,  and 
taciturn,  he  produced  a  strange  impression  on 
his  companions ;  the)'  did  not  suspect  that  this 
austere  man,  who  came  so  punctually  to  the 
lectures  in  a  wide  village  sledge  with  a  pair  of 
horses,  was  inwardly  almost  a  child.  He 
appeared  to  them  to  be  a  queer  kind  of 
pedant ;  they  did  not  care  for  him,  and  made 
no  overtures  to  him,  and  he  avoided  them. 
During  the  first  two  years  he  spent  in  the  uni- 
versity, he  only  made  acquaintance  with  one 
76 


A  HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

Student,  from  whom  he  took  lessons  in  Latin, 
This  student  Mihalevitch  by  name,  an  enthusiast 
and  a  poet,  who  loved  Lavretsky  sincerely,  by 
chance  became  the  means  of  bringing  about  an 
important  change  in  his  destiny. 

One  day  at  the  theatre — Motchalov  was  then 
at  the  height  of  his  fame  and  Lavretsky  did  not 
miss  a  single  performance — he  saw  in  a  box  in 
the  front  tier  a  young  girl,  and  though  no 
woman  ever  came  near  his  grim  figure  without 
setting  his  heart  beating,  it  had  never  beaten  so 
violently  before.  The  young  girl  sat  motion- 
less, leaning  with  her  elbows  on  the  velvet  of 
the  box  ;  the  light  of  youth  and  life  played  in 
every  feature  of  her  dark,  oval,  lovely  face;  subtle 
intelligence  was  expressed  in  the  splendid  eyes 
which  gazed  softly  and  attentively  from  under 
her  fine  brows,  in  the  swift  smile  on  her  expres- 
sive lips,  in  the  very  pose  of  her  head,  her 
hands,  her  neck.  She  was  exquisitely  dressed. 
Beside  her  sat  a  yellow  and  wrinkled  woman  of 
forty-five,  with  a  low  neck,  in  a  black  headdress, 
with  a  toothless  smile  on  her  intently-preoccu- 
pied and  empty  face,  and  in  the  inner  recesses  of 
the  box  was  visible  an  elderly  man  in  a  wide 
frock-coat  and  high  cravat,  with  яп  expression  of 
dull  dignity  and  a  kind  of  ingratiating  distrust- 
fulness  in  his  little  eyes,  with  dyed  moustache 
and  whiskers,  a  large  meaningless  forehead  and 

n 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

wrinkled  cheeks,  by  every  sign  a  retired  general 
Lavretsky  did  not  take  his  eyes  off  the  girl  who 
had  made  such  an  impression  on  him  ;  suddenly 
the  door  of  the  box  opened  and  Mihalevitch 
went  in.  The  appearance  of  this  man,  almost 
his  one  acquaintance  in  Moscow,  in  the  society 
of  the  one  girl  who  was  absorbing  his  whole 
attention,  struck  him  as  curious  and  significant. 
Continuing  to  gaze  into  the  box,  he  observed 
that  all  the  persons  in  it  treated  Mihalevitch  as 
an  old  friend.  The  performance  on  the  stage 
ceased  to  interest  Lavretsky,  even  Motchalov 
though  he  was  that  evening  in  his  'best  form,'  did 
not  produce  the  usual  impression  on  him.  At 
one  very  pathetic  part,  Lavretsky  involuntarily 
looked  at  his  beauty  :  she  was  bending  forward, 
her  cheeks  glowing,  under  the  influence  of  his 
persistent  gaze,  her  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on 
the  stage,  slowly  turned  and  rested  on  him.  All 
night  he  was  haunted  by  those  eyes.  The  skil- 
fully constructed  barriers  were  broken  down  at 
last ;  he  was  in  a  shiver  and  a  fever,  and  the 
next  day  he  went  to  Mihalevitch.  From  him 
he  learnt  that  the  name  of  the  beauty  was 
Varvara  Pavlovna  Korobyin ;  that  the  old  people 
sitting  with  her  in  the  box  were  her  father  and 
mother;  and  that  he,  Mihalevitch,  had  become 
acquainted  with  them  a  year  before,  while  he 
v/as  staying  at  Count  N.'s,  in  the  position  of  a 
78 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

tutor,  near  Moscow.  The  enthusiast  spoke  in 
rapturous  praise  of  Varvara  Pavlovna.  '  My 
dear  fellow/  he  exclaimed  with  the  impetuous 
ring  in  his  voice  peculiar  to  him,  *  that  girl  is  a 
marvellous  creature,  a  genius,  an  artist  in  the 
true  sense  of  the  word,  and  she  is  very  good  too,' 
Noticing  from  Lavretsky's  inquiries  the  impres- 
sion Varvara  Pavlovna  had  made  on  him,  he 
himself  proposed  to  introduce  him  to  her,  add- 
ing that  he  was  like  one  of  the  family  with  them  ; 
that  the  general  was  not  at  all  proud,  and  the 
mother  was  so  stupid  she  could  not  say  '  Bo  *  to 
a  goose.  Lavretsky  blushed,  muttered  some- 
thing unintelligible,  and  ran  away.  For  five 
whole  days  he  was  struggling  with  his  timidity  ; 
on  the  sixth  day  the  young  Spartan  got  into 
a  new  uniform  and  placed  himself  at  Mihalev- 
itch's  disposal.  The  latter  being  his  own  valet, 
confined  himself  to  combing  his  hair — and 
both  betook  themselves  to  the  Korobyins. 


79 


XIII 

Varvara  Pavlovna's  father,  Pavel  Petrovitch 
Korobyin,  a  retired  general-major,  had  spent 
his  whole  time  on  duty  in  Petersburg.  He  had 
had  the  reputation  in  his  youth  of  a  good 
dancer  and  driller.  Througli  poverty,  he  had 
served  as  adjutant  to  two  or  three  generals  of 
no  distinction,  and  had  married  the  daughter  of 
one  of  them  with  a  dowry  of  twenty-five  thou- 
sand roubles.  He  mastered  all  the  science  of 
military  discipline  and  manoeuvres  to  the  min- 
utest niceties,  he  went  on  in  harness,  till  at  last, 
after  twenty  -  five  years'  service,  he  received 
the  rank  of  a  general  and  the  command  of  a 
regiment.  Then  he  might  have  relaxed  his 
efforts  and  have  quietly  secured  his  pecuniary 
position.  Indeed  this  was  what  he  reckoned 
upon  doing,  but  he  managed  things  a  little  in- 
cautiously. He  devised  a  new  method  of  specu- 
lating with  public  funds — the  method  seemed 
an  excellent  one  in  itself — but  he  neglected 
to  bribe  in  the  right  place,  and  was  conse- 
80 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

quently  informed  against,  and  a  more  than  un- 
pleasant, a  disgraceful  scandal  followed.  The 
general  got  out  of  the  affair  somehow,  but  his 
career  was  ruined  ;  he  was  advised  to  retire 
from  active  duty.  For  two  years  he  lingered 
on  in  Petersburg,  hoping  to  drop  into  some 
snug  berth  in  the  civil  service,  but  no  such  snug 
berth  came  in  his  way.  His  daughter  had  left 
school,  his  expenses  were  increasing  every  day. 
Resigning  himself  to  his  fate,  he  decided  to 
remove  to  Moscow  for  the  sake  of  the  greater 
cheapness  of  living,  and  took  a  tiny  low-pit"hed 
house  in  the  Old  Stables  Road,  with  a  coat  of 
arms  seven  feet  long  on  the  roof,  and  there  began 
the  life  of  a  retired  general  at  Moscow  on  an 
income  of  2750  roubles  a  year.  Moscow  is  a 
hospitable  city,  ready  to  welcome  all  stray 
comers,  generals  by  preference.  Pavel  Petro- 
vitch's  heavy  figure,  which  was  not  quite  de- 
void of  martial  dignity,  however,  soon  began  to 
be  seen  in  the  best  drawing-rooms  in  Moscow. 
His  bald  head  with  its  tufts  of  dyed  hair,  and 
the  soiled  ribbon  of  the  Order  of  St.  Anne 
which  he  wore  over  a  cravat  of  the  colour  of 
a  raven's  wing,  began  to  be  familiar  to  all  the 
pale  and  listless  young  men  who  hang  morosely 
about  the  card-tables  while  dancing  is  going  on. 
Pavel  Petrovitch  knew  how  to  gain  a  footing  in 
society ;  he  spoke  little,  but,  from  old  habit, 
81  F 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

condescendingly — though,  of  course,  not  when 
he  was  talking  to  persons  of  a  higher  rank  than 
his  own.  He  played  cards  carefully  ;  ate 
moderately  at  home,  but  consumed  enough  for 
six  at  parties.  Of  his  wife  there  is  scarcely 
anything  to  be  said.  Her  name  was  Kalliopa 
Karlovna.  There  was  always  a  tear  in  her  left 
eye,  on  the  strength  of  which  Kalliopa  Kar- 
lovna (she  was,  one  must  add,  of  German  ex- 
traction) considered  herself  a  woman  of  great 
sensibility.  She  was  always  in  a  state  of  nervous 
agitation,  seemed  as  though  she  were  ill-nour- 
ished, and  wore  a  tight  velvet  dress,  a  cap,  and 
tarnished  hollow  bracelets.  The  only  daughter 
of  Pavel  Petrovitch  and  Kalliopa  Karlovna, 
Varvara  Pavlovna,  was  only  just  seventeen 
when  she  left  the  boarding-school,  in  which  she 
had  been  reckoned,  if  not  the  prettiest,  at  least 
the  cleverest  pupil  and  the  best  musician,  and 
where  she  had  taken  a  decoration.  She  was  not 
yet  nineteen,  when  Lavretsky  saw  her  for  the 
nrst  time 


82 


XIV 

The  young  Spartan  s  legs  shook  under  him 
when  Mihalevitch  conducted  him  into  the  rather 
shabbily  furnished  drawing-room  of  the  Koro- 
byins,  and  presented  him  to  them.  But  his 
overwhelming  feeling  of  timidity  soon  disap- 
peared. In  the  general  the  good-nature  innate 
in  all  Russians  was  intensified  by  that  special 
kind  of  geniality  which  is  peculiar  to  all  people 
who  have  done  something  disgraceful  ;  the 
general's  lady  was  as  it  were  overlooked  by 
every  one  ;  and  as  for  Varvara  Pavlovna,  she  was 
so  self-possessed  and  easily  cordial  that  every 
one  at  once  felt  at  home  in  her  presence ;  besides, 
about  all  her  fascinating  person,  her  smiling 
eyes,  her  faultlessly  sloping  shoulders  and  rosy- 
tinged  white  hands,  her  light  and  yet  languid 
movements,  the  very  sound  of  her  voice,  slow 
and  sweet,  there  was  an  impalpable,  subtle 
charm,  like  a  faint  perfume,  voluptuous,  tender, 
soft,  though  still  modest,  something  which  is 
hard  to  translate  into  words,  but  which  moved 
83 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

and  kindled — and  timidity  was  not  the  feeling 
it  kindled.  Lavretsky  turned  the  conversation 
on  the  theatre,  on  the  performance  of  the  pre- 
vious day  ;  she  at  once  began  herself  to  discuss 
IVTotchalov,  and  did  not  confine  herself  to  sighs 
and  interjections  only,  but  uttered  a  few  true 
observations  full  of  feminine  insight  in  regard 
to  his  acting.  Mihalevitch  spoke  about  music  ; 
she  sat  down  without  ceremony  to  the  piano, 
and  very  correctly  played  some  of  Chopin's 
mazurkas,  which  were  then  just  coming  into 
fashion.  Dinner-time  came  ;  Lavretsky  would 
have  gone  away,  but  they  made  him  stay : 
at  dinner  the  general  regaled  him  with  excellent 
Lafitte,  which  the  general's  lackey  hurried  off 
in  a  street-sledge  to  Dupre's  to  fetch.  Late 
in  the  evening  Lavretsky  returned  home  ;  for 
a  long  while  he  sat  without  undressing,  cover- 
ing his  eyes  with  his  hands  in  the  stupefac- 
tion of  enchantment.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
now  for  the  first  time  he  understood  what  made 
life  worth  living  ;  all  his  previous  assumptions, 
all  his  plans,  all  that  rubbish  and  nonsense 
had  vanished  into  nothing  at  once  ;  all  his  soul 
was  absorbed  in  one  feeling,  in  one  desire — in 
the  desire  of  happiness,  of  possession,  of  love, 
the  sweet  love  of  a  woman.  From  that  day 
he  began  to  go  often  to  the  Korobyins.  Six 
months  later  he  spoke  to  Varvara  Pavlovna, 
84 


л    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

and  ofiered  her  his  hand.  His  offer  was 
accepted  ;  the  general  had  long  before,  almost 
on  the  eve  of  Lavretsky's  first  visit,  inquired  of 
Mihalevitch  how  many  serfs  Lavretsky  owned  ; 
and  indeed  Varvara  Pavlovna,  who  through  the 
whole  time  of  the  young  man's  courtship,  and 
even  at  the  very  moment  of  his  declaration, 
had  preserved  her  customary  composure  and 
clearness  of  mind — Varvara  Pavlovna  too  was 
very  well  aware  that  her  suitor  was  a  wealthy 
man  ;  and  Kalliopa  Karlovna  thought  '  meine 
Tochtev  fnackt  eine  schonc  Partiel  and  bought 
herself  a  new  cap. 


BS 


XV 


And  so  his  offer  was  accepted,  but  on  certain 
conditions.  In  the  rirst  place,  Lavretsky  was 
at  once  to  leave  the  university ;  who  would  be 
married  to  a  student,  and  what  a  strange  idea 
too — how  could  a  landowner,  a  rich  man,  at 
twenty-six,  take  lessons  and  be  at  school  ? 
Secondly,  Varvara  Pavlovna  took  upon  herself 
the  labour  of  ordering  and  purchasing  her 
trousseau,  and  even  choosing  her  present  from 
the  bridegroom.  She  had  much  practical  sense, 
a  great  deal  of  taste,  and  a  very  great  love  of 
comfort,  together  with  a  great  faculty  for  ob- 
taining it  for  herself.  Lavretsky  was  especially 
struck  by  this  faculty  when,  immediately  after 
their  wedding,  he  travelled  alone  with  his  wife 
in  the  comfortable  carriage,  bought  by  her,  to 
Lavriky.  How  carefully  everything  with  which 
he  was  surrounded  had  been  thought  of, 
devised  and  provided  beforehand  by  Varvara 
Pavlovna !  What  charming  travelling  knick- 
knacks  appeared    from    various   snug   corners, 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

what  fascinating  toilet-cases  and  coftee-pots, 
and  how  delightfully  Varvara  Pavlovna  herself 
made  the  coffee  in  the  morning !  Lavretsky, 
however,  was  not  at  that  time  disposed  to  be 
observant ;  he  was  blissful,  drunk  with  happi- 
ness ;  he  gave  himself  up  to  it  like  a  child. 
Indeed  he  was  as  innocent  as  a  child,  this 
young  Hercules,  Not  in  vain  was  the  whole 
personality  of  his  young  wife  breathing  with 
fascination  ;  not  in  vain  was  her  promise  to  the 
senses  of  a  mysterious  luxury  of  untold  bliss  ; 
her  fulfilment  was  richer  than  her  promise. 
When  she  reached  Lavriky  in  the  very  height 
of  the  summer,  she  found  the  house  dark  and 
dirty,  the  servants  absurd  and  old-fashioned, 
but  she  did  not  think  it  necessary  even  to  hint 
at  this  to  her  husband.  If  she  had  proposed 
to  establish  herself  at  Lavriky,  she  would  have 
changed  everything  in  it,  beginning  of  course 
with  the  house  ;  but  the  idea  of  staying  in  that 
out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  steppes  never 
entered  her  head  for  an  instant ;  she  lived  as  in 
a  tent,  good-temperedly  putting  up  with  all  its 
inconveniences,  and  indulgently  making  merry 
over  them.  Marfa  Timofyevna  came  to  pay  a 
visit  to  her  former  charge  ;  Varvara  Pavlovna 
liked  her  very  much,  but  she  did  not  like 
Varvara  Pavlovna.  The  new  mistress  did  not 
get  on  with  Glafira  Petrovna  either  ;  she  would 
87 


A    HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

have  left  her  in  peace,  but  old  Korobyin  wanted 
to  have  a  hand  in  the  management  of  his  son- 
in-law's  affairs  ;  to  superintend  the  property  of 
such  a  near  relative,  he  said,  was  not  beneath 
the  dignity  even  of  a  general.  One  must  add 
that  Pavel  Petrovitch  would  not  have  been  above 
managing  the  property  even  of  a  total  stranger. 
Varvara  Pavlovna  conducted  her  attack  very 
skilfully,  without  taking  any  step  in  advance, 
apparently  completely  absorbed  in  the  bliss  of 
the  honeymoon,  in  the  peaceful  life  of  the 
country,  in  music  and  reading,  she  gradually 
worked  Glafira  up  to  such  a  point  that  she 
rushed  one  morning,  like  one  possessed,  into 
Lavretsky's  study,  and  throwing  a  bunch  of 
keys  on  the  table,  she  declared  that  she  was 
not  equal  to  undertaking  the  management  any 
longer,  and  did  not  want  to  stop  in  the  place. 
Lavretsky,  having  been  suitably  prepared  before- 
hand, at  once  agreed  to  her  departure.  This 
Glafira  Petrovna  had  not  anticipated.  *  Very 
well,'  she  said,  and  her  face  darkened,  *  I  see 
that  I  am.  not  vvanted  here  i  I  know  who  is 
driving  me  out  of  the  home  of  my  fathers. 
Only  you  mark  my  words,  nephew  ;  you  will 
never  make  a  home  anywhere,  you  will  come 
to  be  a  wanderer  for  ever.  That  is  my  last 
word  to  you.'  The  same  day  she  went  away 
to  her  own  little  property,  and  in  a  week 
88 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

General  Korobyin  was  there,and  with  a  pleasant 
melancholy  in  his  looks  and  movements  he  took 
the  superintendence  of  the  whole  property  into 
his  hands. 

In  the  month  of  September,  Varvara  Pavlovna 
carried  her  husband  off  to  Petersburg.  She 
passed  two  winters  in  Petersburg  (for  the 
summer  slie  went  to  stay  at  Tsarskoe  Selo),  in 
a  splendid,  light,  artistically-furnished  flat ;  they 
made  many  acquaintances  among  the  middle 
and  even  higher  ranks  of  society  ;  went  out 
and  entertained  a  great  deal,  and  gave  the  most 
charming  dances  and  musical  evenings.  Var- 
vara Pavlovna  attracted  guests  as  a  fire  attracts 
moths.  Fedor  Ivanitch  did  not  altogether  like 
such  a  frivolous  life.  His  wife  advised  him  to 
take  some  office  under  government  ;  but  from 
old  association  with  his  father,  and  also  through 
his  own  ideas,  he  was  unwilling  to  enter  govern- 
ment service,  still  he  remained  in  Petersburg  for 
Varvara  Pavlovna's  pleasure.  He  soon  dis- 
covered, however,  that  no  one  hindered  him  from 
being  alone  ;  that  it  was  not  for  nothing  that  he 
had  the  quietest  and  most  comfortable  study  in 
all  Petersburg ;  that  his  tender  wife  was  even 
ready  to  aid  him  to  be  alone ;  and  from  that 
time  forth  all  went  well.  He  again  applied 
himself  to  his  own,  as  he  considered,  unfinisheii 
education  ;  he  began  again  to  read,  and  even 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

began  to  learn  English.  It  was  a  strange  sight 
to  see  his  powerful,  broad-shouldered  figure  for 
ever  bent  over  his  writing  table,  his  full-beard- 
ed ruddy  face  half  buried  in  the  pages  of  a 
dictionary  or  note-book.  Every  morning  he  set 
to  work,  then  had  a  capital  dinner  (Varvara 
Pavlovna  was  unrivalled  as  a  housekeeper), 
and  in  the  evenings  he  entered  an  enchanted 
world  of  light  and  perfume,  peopled  by  gay 
young  faces,  and  the  centre  of  this  world 
was  also  the  careful  housekeeper,  his  wife. 
She  rejoiced  his  heart  by  the  birth  of  a  son, 
but  the  poor  child  did  not  live  long  ;  it  died 
in  the  spring,  and  in  the  summer,  by  the 
advice  of  the  doctors,  Lavretsky  took  his  wife 
abroad  to  a  watering-place.  Distraction  was 
essential  for  her  after  such  a  trouble,  and  her 
health,  too,  required  a  warm  climate.  The 
summer  and  autumn  they  spent  in  Germany 
and  Switzerland,  and  for  the  winter,  as  one 
would  naturally  expect,  they  went  to  Paris.  In 
Paris,  Varvara  Pavlovna  bloomed  like  a  rose, 
and  was  able  to  make  herself  a  little  nest  as 
quicklyand  cleverly  as  in  Petersburg.  She  found 
very  pretty  apartments  in  one  of  the  quiet  but 
fashionable  streets  in  Paris ;  she  embroidered 
her  husband  such  a  dressing-gown  as  he  had 
never  worn  before  ;  engaged  a  coquettish  wait- 
ing maid,  an  excellent  cook,  and  a  smart  foot- 
90 


л   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

man,  procured  a  fascinating  carriage,  and  an 
exquisite  piano.  Before  a  week  had  passed,  she 
crossed  the  street,  wore  her  shawl,  opened  her 
parasol,  and  put  on  her  gloves  in  a  manner  equal 
to  the  most  true-born  Parisian.  And  she  soon 
drew  round  herself  acquaintances.  At  first, 
only  Russians  visited  her,  afterwards  French- 
men too,  very  agreeable,  polite,  and  unmarried, 
with  excellent  manners  and  well-sounding 
names  ;  they  all  talked  a  great  deal  and  very 
fast,  bowed  easily,  grimaced  agreeably ;  their 
white  teeth  flashed  under  their  rosy  lips — and 
how  they  could  smile !  All  of  them  brought 
their  friends,  and  la  belle  Madame  de  Lavretsky 
was  soon  known  from  Chaussee  d'Antin  to  Rue 
de  Lille.  In  those  days — it  was  in  1836 — there 
had  not  yet  arisen  the  tribe  of  journalists  and 
reporters  who  now  swarm  on  all  sides  like  ants 
in  an  ant-hill ;  but  even  then  there  was  seen  in 
Varvara  Pavlovna's  salon  a  certain  M.  Jules,  a 
gentleman  of  unprepossessing  exterior,  with  a 
scandalous  reputation,  insolent  and  mean,  like 
all  duellists  and  men  who  have  been  beaten. 
Varvara  Pavlovna  felt  a  great  aversion  to  this 
M.  Jules,  but  she  received  him  because  he  wrote 
for  various  journals,  and  was  incessantly  men- 
tioning her,  calling  her  at  one  time  Madatne  de 
L  .  .  ,  tzki,  at  another,  Madame  de  .  ,  .  ,  cette 
grande  dame  russe  si  distinguee,  qui  demeure 
91 


A    HOUSE   OF    aENTLEFOLK 

rue  rfe  P.  ,  ,  .  a.nd  telling  all  the  world,  that  is, 
some  hundreds  of  readers  who  had  nothing  to 
do  with  Madame  de  L  .  .  .  tzki,  how  charming 
and  delightful  this  lady  was  ;  a  true  French- 
woman in  intelligence  (гше  vraie  frangaise  par 
Г  esprit) — Frenchmen  have  no  higher  praise  than 
this — what  an  extraordinary  musician  she  was, 
and  how  marvellously  she  waltzed  (Varvara  Pav- 
lovna  did  in  fact  waltz  so  that  she  drew  all  her 

hearts  to  the  hem  of  her  light  flying  skirts) 

in  a  word,  he  spread  her  fame  through  the  world, 
and,  whatever  one  may  say,  that  is  pleasant. 
Mademoiselle  Mars  had  already  left  the  stage, 
and  Mademoiselle  Rachel  had  not  yet  made 
her  appearance ;  nevertheless,  Varvara  Pavlovna 
was  assiduous  in  visiting  the  theatres.  She  went 
into  raptures  over  Italian  music,  yawned  de- 
corously at  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  and  wept 
at  the  acting  of  Madame  Dorval  in  some  ultra- 
romantic  melodrama  ;  and  a  great  thing — Liszt 
played  twice  in  her  salon,  and  was  so  kind, 
so  simple — it  was  charming !  In  such  agree- 
able sensations  was  spent  the  winter,  at  the  end 
of  which  Varvara  Pavlovna  was  even  presented 
at  court.  Fedor  Ivanitch,  for  his  part,  was  not 
bored,  though  his  life,  at  times,  weighed  rather 
heavily  on  him — because  it  was  empty.  He 
read  the  papers,  listened  to  the  lectures  at  the 
Sorbonne  and  the  College  de  France,  followed 
92 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

the  debates  in  the  Chambers,  and  set  to  work  on 
a  translation  of  a  well-known  scientific  treatise 
on  irrigation.  '  1  am  not  wasting  my  time,'  he 
thought,  '  it  is  all  of  use;  but  next  winter  I  must, 
without  fail,  return  to  Russia  and  set  to  work.' 
It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  he  had  any  clear 
idea  of  precisely  what  this  work  would  consist 
of;  and  there  is  no  telling  whether  he  would 
have  succeeded  in  going  to  Russia  in  the  winter  ; 
in  the  meantime,  he  was  going  with  his  wife  to 
Baden  .  .  An  unexpected  incident  broke  up 
all  his  plans. 


W 


XVI 

Happening  to  go  one  day  in  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna's  absence  into  her  boudoir,  Lavretsky 
saw  on  the  floor  a  carefully  folded  little  paper. 
He  mechanically  picked  it  up,  unfolded  it,  and 
read  the  following  note,  written  in  French  : 

'Sweet  angel  Betsy!  (I  never  can  makeup 
my  mind  to  call  you  Barbe  or  Varvara),  I  waited 
in  vain  for  you  at  the  corner  of  the  boulevard  ; 
come  to  our  little  room  at  half-past  one  to- 
morrow. Your  stout  good-natured  husband 
{ton  gros  bonhomme  de  mart)  is  usually  buried 
in  his  books  at  that  time  ;  we  will  sing  once 
more  the  song  of  your  poet  Poiiskine  {de  voire 
poke  Potiskine)  that  you  taught  me  :  "  Old 
husband,  cruel  husband  ! "  A  thousand  kisses 
on  your  little  hands  and  feet.     I  await  you. 

'  Ernest.' 

Lavretsky  did  not  at  once  understand  what 

he  had  read  ;  he  read  it  a  second  time,  and  his 

head  began  to  swim,  the  ground  began  to  sway 

under  his  feet  like  the  deck  of  a  ship  in  a  rolling 

94 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

sea.  He  began  to  cry  out  and  gasp  and  weep 
all  at  the  same  instant. 

He  was  utterly  overwhelmed.  He  had  so 
blindly  believed  in  his  wife  ;  the  possibility  of 
deception,  of  treason,  had  never  presented  itself 
to  his  mind.  This  Ernest,  his  wife's  lover,  was 
a  fair-haired  pretty  boy  of  three-and-twenty, 
with  a  little  turned-up  nose  and  refined  little 
moustaches,  almost  the  most  insignificant  of 
all  her  acquaintances.  A  few  minutes  passed, 
half  an  hour  passed,  Lavretsky  still  stood, 
crushing  the  fatal  note  in  his  hands,  and  gazing 
senselessly  at  the  floor  ;  across  a  kind  of 
tempest  of  darkness  pale  shapes  hovered  about 
him  ;  his  heart  was  numb  with  anguish  ;  he 
seemed  to  be  falling,  falling — and  a  bottomless 
abyss  was  opening  at  his  feet.  A  familiar 
light  rustle  of  a  silk  dress  roused  him  from  his 
numbness  ;  Varvara  Pavlovna  in  her  hat  and 
shawl  was  returning  in  haste  from  her  walk. 
Lavretsky  trembled  all  over  and  rushed  away  ; 
he  felt  that  at  that  instant  he  was  capable  of 
tearing  her  to  pieces,  beating  her  to  death,  as 
a  peasant  might  do,  strangling  her  with  his 
own  hands.  Varvara  Pavlovna  in  amazement 
tried  to  stop  him  ;  he  could  only  whisper, 
'  Betsy,' — and  ran  out  of  the  house. 

Lavretsky  took  a  cab  and  ordered  the  man  to 
drive  him  out  of  the  town.  All  the  rest  of  the 
9S 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

day  and  the  whole  night  he  wandered  nbout, 
constantly  stopping  short  and  wringing  his 
hands  ,  at  one  moment  he  was  mad,  and  the 
next  he  was  ready  to  laugh,  was  even  merry 
after  a  fashion.  By  the  morning  he  grew  calm 
through  exhaustion,  and  went  into  a  wretched 
tavern  in  the  outskirts,  asked  for  a  room  and 
sat  down  on  a  chair  before  the  window.  He 
was  overtaken  by  a  fit  of  convulsive  yawning. 
He  could  scarcely  stand  upright,  his  whole 
body  was  worn  out,  and  he  did  not  even  feel 
fatigue,  though  fatigue  began  to  do  its  work  ; 
he  sat  and  gazed  and  comprehended  nothing  ; 
he  did  not  understand  what  had  happened  to 
him,  why  he  found  himself  alone,  with  his  limbs 
stiff,  with  a  taste  of  bitterness  in  his  mouth, 
with  a  load  on  his  heart,  in  an  empty  unfamiliar 
room  ;  he  did  not  understand  what  had  impelled 
her,  his  Varya,  to  give  herself  to  this  Frenchman, 
and  how,  knowing  herself  unfaithful,  she  could 
go  on  being  just  as  calm,  just  as  affectionate,  as 
confidential  with  him  as  before !  *  I  cannot  under- 
stand it ! '  his  parched  lips  whispered.  '  Who 
can  guarantee  now  that  even  in  Petersburg "... 
And  he  did  not  finish  the  question,  and  yawned 
again,  shivering  and  shaking  all  over.  Memories 
— bright  and  gloomy — fretted  him  alike ; 
suddenly  it  crossed  his  mind  how  some  days 
before  she  had  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  sung 
96 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

betore  him  and  Ernest  the  song,  '  Old  husband, 
cruel  husband  ! '  He  recalled  the  expression  of 
her  face,  the  strange  light  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
colour  on  her  cheeks — and  he  got  up  from  his 
seat,  he  would  have  liked  to  go  to  them,  to  tell 
them  :  '  You  were  wrong  to  play  your  tricks  on 
me ;  my  great-grandfather  used  to  hang  the 
peasants  up  by  their  ribs,  and  my  grandfather 
was  himself  a  peasant,'  and  to  kill  them  both. 
Then  all  at  once  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  all  that 
was  happening  was  a  dream,  scarcely  even  a 
dream,  but  some  kind  of  foolish  joke ;  that  he 
need  only  shake  himself  and  look  round.  .  .  . 
He  looked  round,  and  like  a  hawk  clutching  its 
captured  prey,  anguish  gnawed  deeper  and 
deeper  into  his  heart.  To  complete  it  all,  Lav- 
retsky  had  been  hoping  in  a  few  months  to  be 
a  father.  .  .  .  The  past,  the  future,  his  whole 
life  was  poisoned.  He  went  back  at  last  to 
Paris,  stopped  at  an  hotel  and  sent  M.  Ernest's 
note  to  Varvara  Pavlovna  with  the  following 
letter: — 

'The  enclosed  scrap  of  paper  will  explain 
everything  to  you.  Let  me  tell  you  by  the 
way,  that  I  was  surprised  at  you  ;  you,  who  are 
always  so  careful,  to  leave  such  valuable  papers 
lying  about.'  (Poor  Lavretsky  had  spent  hours 
preparing  and  gloating  over  this  phrase.)  '  I 
cannot  see  you  again  ;  I  imagine  that  you,  too, 

Q7  G 


л   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

would  hardly  desire  an  interview  with  me.  1 
am  assigning  you  15,000  francs  a  year  ;  I 
cannot  give  more.  Send  your  address  to  the 
office  of  the  estate.  Do  what  you  please  ;  live 
where  you  please.  I  wish  you  happiness.  No 
answer  is  needed.' 

Lavretsky  wrote  to  his  wife  that  he  needed 
no  answer  .  ,  .  but  he  waited,  he  thirsted  for  a 
reply,  for  an  explanation  of  this  incredible, 
inconceivable  thing.  Varvara  Pavlovna  wrote 
him  the  same  day  a  long  letter  in  French.  It 
put  the  finishing  touch  ;  his  last  doubts  vanished, 
— and  he  began  to  feel  ashamed  that  he  had 
still  had  any  doubt  left.  Varvara  Pavlovna  did 
not  attempt  to  defend  herself ;  her  only  desire 
was  to  see  him,  she  besought  him  not  to  con- 
demn hei-  irrevocably.  The  letter  was  cold  and 
constrained,  though  here  and  there  traces  of 
tears  were  visible.  Lavretsky  smiled  bitterly, 
and  sent  word  by  the  messenger  that  it  was 
all  right.  Three  days  later  he  was  no  longer 
in  Paris  ;  but  he  did  not  go  to  Russia,  but  to 
Italy.  He  did  not  know  himself  why  he  fixed 
upon  Italy  ;  he  did  not  really  care  where  he 
went — so  long  as  it  was  not  home.  He  sent 
instructions  to  his  steward  on  the  subject  of  his 
wife's  allowance,  and  at  the  same  time  told  him 
to  take  all  control  of  his  property  out  of 
General  Korobyin's  hands  at  once,  without 
98 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTT.EFOLK 

waiting  for  him  to  draw  up  an  account,  and  to 
make  arrangements  for  his  Excellency's  de- 
parture from  Lavriky  ;  he  could  picture  vividly 
the  confusion,  the  vain  airs  of  self-importance 
of  the  dispossessed  general,  and  in  the  midst 
of  all  his  sorrow,  he  felt  a  kind  of  spiteful  satis- 
faction. At  the  same  time  he  asked  Glafira 
Petrovna  by  letter  to  return  to  Lavriky,  and 
drew  up  a  deed  authorising  her  to  take  posses- 
sion ;  Glafira  Petrovna  did  not  return  to 
Lavriky,  and  printed  in  the  newspapers  that 
the  deed  was  cancelled,  which  was  perfectly 
unnecessary  on  her  part.  Lavretsky  kept  out 
of  sight  in  a  small  Italian  town,  but  for  a  long 
time  he  could  not  help  following  his  wife's  move- 
ments. From  the  newspapers  he  learned  that 
she  had  gone  from  Paris  to  Baden  as  she  had 
arranged  ;  her  name  soon  appeared  in  an  article 
written  by  the  same  M.  Jules.  In  this  article 
there  was  a  kind  of  sympathetic  condolence 
apparent  under  the  habitual  playfulness  ;  there 
was  a  deep  sense  of  disgust  in  the  soul  of  Fedor 
Ivanitch  as  he  read  this  article.  Afterwards  he 
learned  that  a  daughter  had  been  born  to  him  ; 
two  months  later  he  received  a  notification  from 
his  steward  that  Varvara  Pavlovna  had  asked  for 
the  first  quarter's  allov/ance.  Then  worse  and 
worse  rumours  began  to  reach  him  ;  at  last,  a 
tragic-comic  stor\^  was  reported  with  acclama- 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

tions  in  all  the  papers.  His  wife  played  an 
unenviable  part  in  it.  It  was  the  finishing  stroke  j 
Varvara  Pavlovna  had  become  a  *  notoriety.' 

Lavretsky  ceased  to  follow  her  movements  ; 
but  he  could  not  quickly  gain  mastery  over 
himself.  Sometimes  he  was  overcome  by  such 
a  longing  for  his  wife  that  he  would  have  given 
up  everything,  he  thought,  even,  perhaps  .  .  . 
could  have  forgiven  her,  only  to  hear  her  caress- 
ing voice  again,  to  feel  again  her  hand  in  his. 
Time,  however,  did  not  pass  in  vain.  He  was 
not  born  to  be  a  victim  ;  his  healthy  nature 
reasserted  its  rights.  Much  became  clear  to 
him  ;  even  the  blow  that  had  fallen  on  him  no 
longer  seemed  to  him  to  have  been  quite  unfore- 
seen ;  he  understood  his  wife, — we  can  only 
fully  understand  those  who  are  near  to  us,  when 
we  are  separated  from  them.  He  could  take 
up  his  interests,  could  work  again,  though  with 
nothing  like  his  former  zeal ;  scepticism,  half- 
formed  already  by  the  experiences  of  his  life, 
and  by  his  education,  took  complete  possession  of 
his  heart.  He  became  indifferent  to  everything. 
Four  years  passed  by,  and  he  felt  himself  strong 
enough  to  return  to  his  country,  to  meet  his  own 
people.     Without  stopping  at  Petersburg  or  at 

Moscow  he  came  to  the  town  of  О ,  where 

we  parted  from  him,  and  whither  we  will  now 
ask  the  indulgent  reader  to  return  with  us. 

lOO 


XVIi 

The  morning  after  the  day  we  have  described, 
at   ten   o'clock,   Lavretsky  was   mounting  the 
steps  of  the  Kalitins'  house.     He  was  met  by 
Lisa  coming  out  in  her  hat  and  gloves. 
'  Where  are  you  going  ?  '  he  asked  her. 
'  To  service.     It  is  Sunday.' 

•  Why,  do  you  go  to  church  ? ' 

Lisa  looked  at  him  in  silent  amazement. 

'  I  beg  your  pardon/  said  Lavretsky  ;  '  I  —  I 
did  not  mean  to  say  that ;  I  have  come  to  say 
good-bye  to  you,  I  am  starting  for  my  village 
in  an  hour.' 

•  Is  it  far  from  here  ?  '  asked  Lisa. 
'Twenty  miles.' 

Lenotchka  made  her  appearance  in  the  door- 
way, escorted  by  a  maid. 

'  Mind  you  don't  forget  us,'  observed  Lisa^ 
and  went  down  the  steps. 

•  And  don't  you  forget  me.  And  listen, 
he  added,  '  you  are  going  to  church  ;  while  you 
are  there,  pray  for  me  too.' 

TCI 


A   HOUSE    OF   GENTLEFOLK 

Lisa  stopped  short  and  turned  round  to  him : 
'Certainly,'  she  said,  looking  him  straight  in 
the  face,  '  I  will  pray  for  you  too.  Come, 
Lenotchka.' 

In  the  drawing-room  Lavretsky  found  Marya 
Dmitrievna  alone.  She  was  redolent  of  mu  de 
Cologne  and  mint  She  had,  as  she  said,  a 
headache,  and  had  passed  a  restless  night. 
She  received  him  with  her  usual  languid 
graciousness  and  gradually  fell  into  conversa- 
tion. 

'Vladimir  Nikolaitch  is  really  a  delightful 
young  man,  don't  you  think  so?'  she  asked 
him. 

What  Vladimir  Nikolaitch?' 

*  Panshin  to  be  sure,  who  was  here  yesterday. 
He  took  a  tremendous  fancy  to  you  ;  I  will 
tell  you  a  secret,  vion  cher  cousifi,  he  is  simply 
crazy  about  my  Lisa.  Well,  he  is  of  good 
family,  has  a  capital  position  in  the  service,  and 
a  clever  fellow,  a  kammer-yunker,  and  if  it  is 
God's  will,  I  for  my  part,  as  a  mother,  shall  be 
well  pleased.  My  responsibility  of  course  is 
immense;  the  happiness  of  children  depends, 
no  doubt,  on  parents ;  still  I  may  say,  up  till 
no\  ,  for  better  or  for  worse  I  have  done  every- 
thing, I  alone  have  been  everywhere  with  them, 
that  is  to  say,  I  have  educated  my  children 
and  taught  them  everything  myself  Now, 
102 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

indeed,  I  have  written  for  a  French  governess 
from  Madame  Boluce.' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  launched  into  a  descrip- 
tion of  her  cares  and  anxieties  and  maternal 
sentiments.  Lavretsky  listened  in  silence, 
turning  his  hat  in  his  hands.  His  cold,  weary 
glance  embarrassed  the  gossiping  lady. 

'And  do  you  like  Lisa?'  she  asked. 

'Lisaveta  Mihalovna  is  an  excellent  girl,' 
replied  Lavretsky,  and  he  got  up,  took  his 
leave,  and  went  off  to  Marfa  Timofyevna. 
Marya  Dmitrievna  looked  after  him  in  high 
displeasure,  and  thought,  *  What  a  dolt,  a  regular 
peasant !  Well,  now  I  understand  why  his 
wife  could  not  remain  faithful  to  him.' 

Marfa  Timofyevna  was  sitting  in  her  room, 
surrounded  by  her  little  court.  It  consisted  of 
five  creatures  almost  equally  near  her  heart ; 
a  big-cropped,  learned  bullfinch,  which  she  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  because  he  had  lost  his 
accomplishments  of  whistling  and  drawing 
water ;  a  very  timid  and  peaceable  little  dog, 
Roska  ;  an  ill-tempered  cat,  Matross  ;  a  dark- 
faced,  agile  little  girl  of  nine  years  old,  with  big 
eyes  and  a  sharp  nose,  called  Shurotchka  ;  and 
an  elderly  woman  of  fifty-five,  in  a  white  cap 
and  a  cinnamon-coloured  abbreviated  jacket, 
over  a  dark  skirt,  by  name,  Nastasya  Karpovna 
Ogarkov.  Shurotchka  was  an  orphan  of  the 
103 


A  HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

tradesman  class.  Marfa  Timofyevna  had  taken 
her  to  her  heart  like  Roska,  from  compassion  ; 
she  had  found  the  little  dog  and  the  little  girl  too 
in  the  street ;  both  were  thin  and  hungry,  both 
were  being  drenched  by  the  autumn  rain  ;  no 
one  came  in  search  of  Roska,  and  Shurotchka 
was  given  up  to  Marfa  Timofx^evna  with  positive 
eagerness  by  her  uncle,  a  drunken  shoemaker, 
who  did  not  get  enough  to  eat  himself,  and  did 
not  feed  his  niece,  but  beat  her  over  the  head 
with  his  last.  With  Nastasya  Karpovna  Marfa 
Timofyevna  had  made  acquaintance  on  a  pil- 
grimage at  a  monastery ;  she  had  gone  up  to 
her  at  the  church  (Marfa  Timofyevna  took  a 
fancy  to  her  because  in  her  own  words  she  said 
her  prayers  so  prettily)  and  had  addressed  her 
and  invited  her  to  a  cup  of  tea.  From  that  day 
she  never  parted  from  her.  Nastasya  Karpovna 
was  a  woman  of  the  most  cheerful  and  gentle 
disposition,  a  widow  without  children,  of  poor 
noble  family  ;  she  had  a  round  grey  head,  soft 
white  hands,  a  soft  face  with  large  mild  features, 
and  a  rather  absurd  turned-up  nose  ;  she  stood 
in  awe  of  Marfa  Timofyevna,  and  the  latter  was 
very  fond  of  her,  though  she  laughed  at  her  sus- 
ceptibility. She  had  a  soft  p'ace  in  her  heart  for 
every  young  man,  and  could  not  help  blushing' 
like  a  girl  at  the  most  innocent  joke.  Her 
whole  fortune  consisted  of  only  1200  roubles  ; 
104 


A   HOUSE   OF    bENTLEFOLK 

she  lived  at  Marfa  Timofyevna's  expense,  but  on 
an  equal  footing  with  her:  Marfa  Timofyevna 
would  not  have  put  up  with  any  servility. 

'  Ah !  Fedya/  she  began,  directly  she  saw 
him,  '  last  night  you  did  not  see  my  family,  you 
must  admire  them,  we  are  all  here  together  for 
tea ;  this  is  our  second,  holiday  tea.  You  can 
make  friends  with  them  all  ;  only  Shurotchka 
won't  let  you,  and  the  cat  will  scratch.  Are 
you  starting  to-day  ? ' 

'  Yes.'     Lavretsky  sat  down  on  a  low  seat, 

•  I  have  just  said  good-bye  to  Marya  Dmitrievna. 
I  saw  Lisaveta  IMihalovna  too.' 

'  Call  her  Lisa,  my  dear  fellow.  Mihalovna 
indeed  to  you  !  But  sit  still,  or  you  will  break 
Shurotchka's  little  chair.' 

'  She  has  gone  to  church,'  continued  Lavretsky. 

*  Is  she  religious  ?' 

'  Yes,  Fedya,  very  much  so.  More  than  you 
and  I,  Fedya.' 

'  Aren't  }'ou  religious  then  ? '  lisped  Nastasya 
Karpovna.  '  To-day,  you  have  not  been  to  the 
early  service,  but  you  are  going  to  the  late.' 

'  No,  not  at  all ;  you  will  go  alone  ;  I  have 
grown  too  lazy,  my  dear,'  replied  Marfa  Timof- 
yevna. '  Already  I  am  indulging  myself  with 
tea.'  She  addressed  Nastasya  Karpovna  in  the 
singular,  though  she  treated  her  as  an  equal. 
She  was  not  a  Pestov  for  nothing  :  three  Pestovs 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

had  been  on  the  death-list  of  Ivan  the  Terrible, 
Marfa  Timofyevna  was  well  aware  of  the  fact. 

'Tell  me,  please/  began  Lavretsky  again, 
'Marya  Dmitrievna  has  just  been  talking  to  me 
about  this — what's  his  name  ?  Panshin.  What 
sort  of  a  man  is  he  ? ' 

'  What  a  chatterbox  she  is,  Lord  save  us ! 
muttered  Marfa  Timofyevna.  '  She  told  you,  I 
suppose,  as  a  secret  that  he  has  turned  up  as  a 
suitor.  She  might  have  whispered  it  to  her 
priest's  son  ;  no,  he 's  not  enough  for  her,  it 
seems.  And  so  far  there 's  nothing  to  tell, 
thank  God,  but  already  she's  gossiping  about 
it.' 

'  Why  thank  God  ? '  asked  Lavretsky. 

'  Because  I  don't  like  the  fine  young  gentle- 
man ;  and  so  what  is  there  to  be  glad  of  in 
it?' 

'  You  don't  like  him  ? ' 

*  No,  he  can't  fascinate  every  one.  He  must 
be  satisfied  with  Nastasya  Karpovna's  being  in 
love  with  him.' 

The  poor  widow  was  utterly  dismayed. 

'  How  can  you,  Marfa  Timofyevna  ?  you  Ve 
no  conscience ! '  she  cried,  and  a  crimson  flush 
instantly  overspread  her  face  and  neck. 

'  And  he  knows,  to  be  sure,  the  rogue,'  Marfa 
Timofyevna  interrupted  her,  '  he  knows  how  to 
captivate  her ;    he    made   her   a    present    of  a 
1 06 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

snuff-box.  Fedya,  ask  her  for  a  pinch  of  snuff; 
you  will  see  what  a  splendid  snuff-box  it  is  ;  on 
the  lid  a  hussar  on  horseback.  You  'd  better 
not  try  to  defend  yourself,  my  dear.' 

Nastasya  Karpovna  could  only  fling  up  her 
hands. 

'  Well,  but  Lisa,'  inquired  Lavretsky,  'is  she 
indifferent  to  him  ? " 

'  She  seems  to  like  him,  but  there,  God 
knows !  The  heart  of  another,  you  know,  is 
a  dark  forest,  and  a  girl's  more  than  any. 
Shurotchka's  heart,  for  instance — I  defy  you  to 
understand  it !  What  makes  her  hide  herself 
and  not  come  out  ever  since  you  came  in  ^ ' 

Shurotchka  choked  with  suppressed  laughter 
and  skipped  out  of  the  room.  Lavretsky  rose 
from  his  place. 

'  Yes,'  he  said  in  an  uncertain  voice,  '  there  is 
no  deciphering  a  girl's  heart.' 

He  began  to  say  good-bye. 

'Well,  shall  we  see  you  again  soon?'  in- 
quired Marfa  Timofyevna. 

'Very  likely,  aunt:  it's  not  far  off,  you 
know.' 

'  Yes,  to  be  sure  you  are  going  to  Vassilyev- 
skoe.  You  don't  care  to  stay  at  Lavriky  :  well^ 
that 's  your  own  affair,  only  mind  you  go  and 
say  a  prayer  at  your  mother's  grave,  and  your 
grandmother's   too  while  you    are  there.     Cut 

IQ7 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

there  in  foreign  parts  you  have  picked  up  ai} 
kinds  of  ideas,  but  who  knows  ?  Perhaps  even 
in  tiieir  graves  they  will  feel  that  you  have  come 
to  them.  And,  Fedya,  don't  forget  to  have  a 
service  sung  too  for  Glafira  Petrovna  ;  here's 
a  silver  rouble  for  you.  Take  it,  take  it,  I  want 
to  pay  for  a  service  for  her.  I  had  no  love  for 
her  in  her  lifetime,  but  all  the  same  there 's  no 
denying  she  was  a  girl  of  character.  She  was 
a  clever  creature  ;  and  a  good  friend  to  you. 
And  now  go  and  God  be  with  you,  before  I 
weary  you.' 

And  Marfa  Timofyevna  embraced  her 
nephew. 

'And  Lisa's  not  going  to  marry  Panshin ; 
don't  you  trouble  yourself ;  that 's  not  the  sort 
of  husband  she  deserves.' 

*  Oh,  I  'm  not  troubling  myself,'  answered 
Lavretsky,  and  went  away. 


io8 


XVIII 

Four  days  later,  he  set  off  for  home.  Hi- 
coach  rolled  quickly  along  the  soft  cross-road. 
There  had  been  no  rain  for  a  fortnight ;  a  fine 
milky  mist  was  diffused  in  the  air  and  hung  over 
the  distant  woods ;  a  smell  of  burning  came 
from  it.  A  multitude  of  darkish  clouds  with 
blurred  edges  were  creeping  across  the  pale 
blue  sky ;  a  fairly  strong  breeze  blew  a  dry  and 
steady  gale,  without  dispelling  the  heat.  Lean- 
ing back  with  his  head  on  the  cushion  and  his 
arms  crossed  on  his  breast,  Lavretsky  watched 
the  furrowed  fields  unfolding  like  a  fan  before 
him,  the  willow  bushes  as  they  slowly  came 
into  sight,  and  the  dull  ravens  and  rooks,  who 
looked  sidelong  with  stupid  suspicion  at  the 
approaching  carriage,  the  long  ditches,  over- 
grown with  mugwort,  wormwood,  and  moun- 
tain ash  ;  and  as  he  watched  the  fresh  fertile 
wilderness  and  solitude  of  this  steppe  country, 
the  greenness,  the  long  slopes,  and  valleys  with 
stunted  oak  bushes,  the  grey  villages,  and  scant 
109 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

birch-trees, — the  whole  Russian  landscape,  so 
long  unseen  by  him,  stirred  emotion  at  once 
pleasant,  sweet  and  almost  painful  in  his  heart, 
and  he  felt  weighed  down  by  a  kind  of  pleasant 
oppression.  Slowly  his  thoughts  wandered  ; 
their  outlines  were  as  vague  and  indistinct  as 
the  outlines  of  the  clouds  which  seemed  to  be 
wandering  at  random  overhead.  He  remem- 
bered his  childhood,  his  mother  ;  he  remembered 
her  death,  how  they  had  carried  him  in  to  her, 
and  how,  clasping  his  head  to  her  bosom,  she  had 
begun  to  wail  over  him,  then  had  glanced  at  Gla- 
fira  Petrovna — and  checked  herself.  He  remem- 
bered his  father,  at  first  vigorous,  discontented 
with  everything,  with  strident  voice;  and  later, 
blind,  tearful,  with  unkempt  grey  beard  ;  he  re- 
membered how  one  day  after  drinking  a  glass  too 
much  at  dinner,  and  spilling  the  gravy  over  his 
napkin,  he  began  to  relate  his  conquests,  growing 
red  in  the  face,  and  winking  with  his  sightless 
eyes  ;  he  remembered  Varvara  Pavlovna, — and 
involuntarily  shuddered,  as  a  man  shudders 
from  a  sudden  internal  pain,  and  shook  his 
head.  Then  his  thoughts  came  to  a  stop  at 
Lisa. 

*  There,'  he  thought, '  is  a  new  creature,  only 

just  entering  on   life.     A   nice  girl,  what  will 

become  of  her  ?     She  is  good-looking  too.     A 

pale,  fresh  face,  mouth  and  eyes  so  serious,  and 

no 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

an  honest  innocent  expression.  It  is  a  pity  she 
seems  a  h'ttle  enthusiastic.  A  good  figure,  and 
she  moves  so  Hghtly,  and  a  soft  voice.  I  Hke 
the  way  she  stops  suddenly,  Hstens  attentively, 
without  a  smile,  then  grows  thoughtful  and 
shakes  back  her  hair.  I  fancy,  too,  that  Panshin 
is  not  good  enough  for  her.  What 's  amiss  with 
him,  though  ?  And  besides,  what  business  have 
I  to  wonder  about  it  ?  She  will  go  along  the 
same  road  as  all  the  rest.  1  had  better  go  to 
sleep.'     And  Lavretsky  closed  his  eyes. 

He  could  not  sleep,  but  he  sank  into  the 
drowsy  numbness  of  a  journey.  Images  of  the 
past  rose  slowly  as  before,  floated  in  his  soul, 
mixed  and  tangled  up  with  other  fancies.  Lav- 
retsky, for  some  unknown  reason,  began  to 
think  about  Robert  Peel,  .  .  .  about  French 
history — of  how  he  would  gain  a  battle,  if  he 
were  a  general ;  he  fancied  the  shots  and  the 
cries.  .  .  .  His  head  slipped  on  one  side,  he 
opened  his  eyes.  The  same  fields,  the  same 
steppe  scenery  ;  the  polished  shoes  of  the  trace- 
horses  flashed  alternately  through  the  driving 
dust  ;  the  coachman's  shirt,  yellow  with  red 
gussets,  was  puffed  out  by  the  wind.  .  .  .  '  A 
nice  home-coming  ! '  glanced  through  Lavret- 
sky's  brain  ;  and  he  cried,  '  Get  on  ! '  wrapped 
himself  in  his  cloak  and  pressed  close  into  the 
cushion.  The  carriage  jolted  ;  Lavretsky  sat 
III 


A    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

up  and  opened  his  eyes  wide.  On  the  slope 
before  him  stretched  a  small  hamlet ;  a  little 
to  the  right  could  be  seen  an  ancient  manor- 
house  of  small  size,  with  closed  shutters  and 
a  winding  flight  of  steps  ;  nettles,  green  and 
thick  as  hemp,  grew  over  the  wide  courtyard 
from  the  very  gates  ;  in  it  stood  a  store-house 
built  of  oak,  still  strong.  This  was  Vassilyev- 
skoe. 

The  coachman  drove  to  the  gates  and  drew 
up  ;  Lavretsky's  groom  stood  up  on  the  box 
and  as  though  in  preparation  for  jumping  down, 
shouted,  *  Hey  ! '  There  was  a  sleepy,  muffled 
sound  of  barking,  but  not  even  a  dog  made  its 
appearance  ;  the  groom  again  made  ready  for  a 
jump,  and  again  shouted  'Hey!'  The  feeble 
barking  was  repeated,  and  an  instant  after  a 
man  from  some  unseen  quarter  ran  into  the 
courtyard,  dressed  in  a  nankeen  coat,  his  head 
as  white  as  snow  ;  he  stared  at  the  coach,  shad- 
ing his  eyes  from  the  sun ;  all  at  once  he 
slapped  his  thighs  with  both  hands,  ran  to  and 
fro  a  little,  then  rushed  to  open  the  gates.  The 
coach  drove  into  the  yard,  crushing  the  nettles 
with  the  wheels  and  drew  up  at  the  steps.  The 
white-headed  man,  who  seemed  very  alert,  was 
already  standing  on  the  bottom  step,  his  legs 
bent  and  wide  apart.  He  unfastened  the  apron 
of  the  carriage,  holding  back  the  strap  with  a 


A  HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

jerk  and  aiding  his  master  to  alight ;  then  kissed 
his  hand. 

*  How  do  you  do,  how  do  you  do,  brother  ? ' 
began  Lavretsky.  '  Your  name 's  Anton,  I  think  ? 
You  are  still  alive,  then  ?'  The  old  man  bowed 
without  speaking,  and  ran  off  for  the  keys. 
While  he  went,  the  coachman  sat  motionless, 
sitting  sideways  and  staring  at  the  closed  door, 
but  Lavretsky's  groom  stood  as  he  had  leaped 
down  in  a  picturesque  pose  with  one  arm  thrown 
back  on  the  box.  The  old  man  brought  the 
keys,  and,  quite  needlessly,  twisting  about  like 
a  snake,  with  his  elbows  raised  high,  he  opened 
the  door,  stood  on  one  side,  and  again  bowed  to 
the  earth. 

*  So  here  I  am  at  home,  here  I  am  back 
again,'  thought  Lavretsky,  as  he  walked  into 
the  diminutive  passage,  while  one  after  another 
the  shutters  were  being  opened  with  much 
creaking  and  knocking,  and  the  light  of  day 
poured  into  the  deserted  rooms. 


113 


XIX 

The  small  manor-house  to  which  Lavretsk}. 
had  come  and  in  which  two  years  before  Glafira 
Petrovna  had  breathed  her  last,  had  been  built 
in  the  preceding  century  of  solid  pine-wood  ;  it 
looked  ancient,  but  it  was  still  strong  enough  to 
stand  another  fifty  years  or  more.  Lavretsky 
made  the  tour  of  all  the  rooms,  and  to  the 
great  discomfiture  of  the  aged  languid  flies, 
settled  under  the  lintels  and  covered  with  white 
dust,  he  ordered  the  windows  to  be  opened 
everywhere ;  they  had  not  been  opened  ever 
since  the  death  of  Glafira  Petrovna.  Every- 
thing in  the  house  had  remained  as  it  was  ;  the 
thin-legged  white  miniature  couches  in  the 
drawing-room,  covered  with  glossy  grey  stuff, 
threadbare  and  rickety,  vividly  suggested  the 
days  of  Catherine  ;  in  the  drawing-room,  too, 
stood  the  mistress's  favourite  arm-chair, with  high 
straight  back,  against  which  she  never  leaned 
even  in  her  old  age.  On  the  principal  wall 
hung  a  very  old  portrait  of  Fedor's  great-grand- 
114 


A    HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

father,  Andrey  Lavretsky ;  the  dark  yellow 
face  was  scarcely  distinguishable  from  the 
warped  and  blackened  background  ;  the  small 
cruel  eyes  looked  grimly  out  from  beneath  the 
eyelids,  which  drooped  as  if  they  were  swollen  ; 
his  black  unpowdered  hair  rose  bristling  above 
his  heavy  indented  brow.  In  the  corner  of  the 
portrait  hung  a  wreath  of  dusty  immortelles. 
•  Glafira  Petrovna  herself  was  pleased  to  make 
it/  Anton  announced.  In  the  bedroom  stood  a 
narrow  bedstead,  under  a  canopy  of  old-fash- 
ioned and  very  good  striped  material ;  a  heap 
of  faded  cushions  and  a  thin  quilted  counter- 
pane lay  on  the  bed,  and  at  the  head  hung  a 
picture  of  the  Presentation  in  the  Temple  of  the 
Holy  Mother  of  God  ;  it  was  the  very  picture 
which  the  old  maid,  dying  alone  and  forgotten 
by  every  one,  had  for  the  last  time  pressed  to 
her  chilling  lips.  A  little  toilet  table  of  inlaid 
wood,  with  brass  fittings  and  a  warped  looking- 
glass  in  a  tarnished  frame  stood  in  the  window. 
Next  to  the  bedroom  was  the  little  ikon  room 
with  bare  walls  and  a  heavy  case  of  holy 
images  in  the  corner  ;  on  the  floor  lay  a  thread- 
bare rug  spotted  with  wax  ;  Glafira  Petrovna 
used  to  pray  bowing  to  the  ground  upon  it. 
Anton  went  away  with  Lavretsky 's  groom  to 
unlock  the  stable  ano^  coach-house  ;  to  replace 
him  appeared  an  old  woman  of  about  the  same 
U5 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

age,  with  a  handkerchief  tied  round  to  her  very 
eyebrows  ;  her  head  shook,  and  her  eyes  were 
dim,  but  they  expressed  zeal,  the  habit  of  years  of 
submissive  service,  and  at  the  same  time  a  kind 
of  respectful  commiseration.  She  kissed  Lavret- 
sky's  hand  and  stood  still  in  the  doorway  await- 
ing his  orders.  He  positively  could  not  recollect 
her  name  and  did  not  even  remember  whether  he 
had  ever  seen  her.  Her  name,  it  appeared,  was 
Apraxya  ;  forty  years  before,  Glafira  Petrovna 
had  put  her  out  of  the  master's  house  and  ordered 
that  she  should  be  poultry-woman.  She  said 
little,  however  ;  she  seemed  to  have  lost  her 
senses  from  old  age,  and  could  only  gaze  at  him 
obsequiously.  Besides  these  two  old  creatures 
and  three  pot-bellied  children  in  long  smocks, 
Anton's  great-grandchildren,  there  was  also 
living  in  the  manor-house  a  one-armed  peasant, 
who  was  exempted  from  servitude  ;  he  muttered 
ike  a  woodcock  and  was  of  no  use  for  anything. 
Not  much  more  useful  was  the  decrepit  dog  who 
had  saluted  Lavretsky's  return  by  its  barking  ; 
he  had  been  for  ten  years  fastened  up  by  a 
heavy  chain,  purchased  at  Glafira  Petrovna's 
command,  and  was  scarcely  able  to  move  and 
drag  the  weight  of  it.  Having  looked  over  the 
house,  Lavretsky  went  into  the  garden  and  was 
very  much  pleased  w^/j"  it.  It  was  all  over- 
grown with  high  grass,  and  burdock,  and  goose- 
ii6 


л    HOUSE   OF     tENTLEFOLK 

berry  and  raspberry  bushes,  but  there  was 
plent}-  of  shade,  and  many  old  lime-trees, 
which  were  remarkable  for  their  immense  size 
and  the  peculiar  growth  of  their  branches  ;  they 
had  been  planted  too  close  and  at  some  time  or 
other — a  hundred  years  before — they  had  been 
lopped.  At  the  end  of  the  garden  was  a  small 
clear  pool  bordered  with  high  reddish  rushes. 
The  traces  of  human  life  very  quickly  pass 
away;  Glafira  Petrovna's  estate  had  not  had 
time  to  become  quite  wild,  but  already  it  seemed 
plunged  in  that  quiet  slumber  in  which  every- 
thing reposes  on  earth  where  there  is  not  the 
infection  of  m.an"s  restlessness.  Fedor  Ivanitch 
walked  also  through  the  village ;  the  peasant- 
women  stared  at  him  from  the  doorways  of  their 
huts,  their  cheeks  resting  on  their  hands  ;  the 
peasants  saluted  him  from  a  distance,  the 
children  ran  out,  and  the  dogs  barked  indiffer- 
ently. At  last  he  began  to  feel  hungry ;  but  he 
did  not  expect  his  servants  and  his  cook  till  the 
evening ;  the  waggons  of  provisions  from  Lavriky 
had  not  come  yet,  and  he  had  to  have  recourse 
to  Anton.  Anton  arranged  matters  at  once  ;  he 
caught,  killed,  and  plucked  an  old  hen ;  Apraxya 
gave  it  a  long  rubbing  and  cleaning,  and  vashed 
it  like  linen  before  putting  it  into  the  stew-pan  ; 
when,  at  last,  it  was  cooked,  Anton  laid  the 
cloth  and  set  the  table,  placing  beside  the  knife 
TI7 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

and  fork  a  three-legs^ed  salt-cellar  of  tarnished 
plate  and  a  cut  decanter  with  a  round  glass 
stopper  and  a  narrow  neck  ;  then  he  announced 
to  Lavretsky  in  a  sing-song  voice  that  the  meal 
was  ready,  and  took  his  stand  behind  his  chair, 
with  a  napkin  twisted  round  his  right  fist,  and 
diffusing  about  him  a  peculiar  strong  ancient 
odour,  like  the  scent  of  a  cypress-tree.  Lavret- 
sky tried  the  soup,  and  took  out  the  hen  ;  its 
skin  was  all  covered  with  large  blisters  ;  a  tough 
tendon  ran  up  each  leg  ;  the  meat  had  a  flavour 
of  wood  and  soda.  When  he  had  finished 
dinner,  Lavretsky  said  that  he  would  drink  a 

cup  of  tea,  if '  I  will  bring  it  this  minute,' 

the  old  man  interrupted.  And  he  kept  his  word. 
A  pinch  of  tea  was  hunted  up,  twisted  in  a 
screw  of  red  paper ;  a  small  but  very  fiery  and 
loudly-hissing  samovar  was  found,  and  sugar 
too  in  small  lumps,  which  looked  as  if  they  were 
thawing.  Lavretsky  drank  tea  out  of  a  large 
cup  ;  he  remembered  this  cup  from  childhood  ; 
there  were  playing-cards  depicted  upon  it,  only 
visitors  used  to  drink  out  of  it — and  here  was 
he  drinking  out  of  it  like  a  visitor.  In  the  evening 
his  servants  came  ;  Lavretsky  did  not  care  to 
sleep  in  his  aunt's  bed  ;  he  directed  them  to  put 
him  up  a  bed  in  the  dining-room.  After  extin- 
guishing his  candle  he  stared  for  a  long  time 
about  him  and  fell  into  cheerless  reflection  ;  he 
ii8 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

experienced  that  feeling  which  every  man  knows 
whose  lot  it  is  to  pass  the  night  in  a  place  long 
uninhabited  ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  dark- 
ness surrounding  him  on  all  sides  could  not  be 
accustomed  to  the  new  inhabitant,  the  very 
walls  of  the  house  seemed  amazed.  At  last  he 
sighed,  drew  up  the  counterpane  round  him 
and  fell  asleep.  Anton  remained  up  after  all 
the  rest  of  the  household;  he  was  whispering 
a  long  while  with  Apraxya,  he  sighed  in  an 
undertone,  and  twice  he  crossed  himself;  they 
had  neither  of  them  expected  that  their  master 
would  settle  among  them  at  Vassilyevskoe  when 
he  had  not  far  off  such  a  splendid  estate  with 
such  a  capitally  built  house ;  they  did  not  sus- 
pect that  the  very  house  was  hateful  to  Lavret- 
sky ;  it  stirred  painful  memories  within  him. 
Having  gossiped  to  his  heart's  content,  Anton 
took  a  stick  and  struck  the  night  watchman's 
board,  which  had  hung  silent  for  so  many 
years,  and  laid  down  to  sleep  in  the  courtyard 
with  no  covering  on  his  white  head.  The 
May  night  was  mild  and  soli,  and  the  old  man 
slept  sweetly. 


119 


XX 


The  next  day  Lavretsky  got  up  rather  early 
had  a  talk  with  the  village  bailiff,  visited  the 
threshing-floor,  ordered  the  chain  to  be  taken 
off  the  yard  dog,  who  only  barked  a  little,  but 
did  not  even  come  out  of  his  kennel,  and,  return- 
ing home,  sank  into  a  kind  of  peaceful  torpor, 
which  he  did  not  shake  off  the  whole  day. 

*  Here  I  am  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  river,' 
he  said  to  himself  more  than  once.  He  sat  at  the 
window  without  stirring,  and,  as  it  were,  listened 
to  the  current  of  the  quiet  life  surrounding 
him,  to  the  few  sounds  of  the  country  solitude. 
Something  from  behind  the  nettles  chirps  with  a 
shrill,  shrill  little  note  ;  a  gnat  seems  to  answer 
it.  Now  it  has  ceased,  but  still  the  gnat  keeps 
up  its  sharp  whirr ;  across  the  pleasant,  per- 
sistent, fretful  buzz  of  the  flies  sounds  the  hum 
of  a  big  bee,  constantly  knocking  its  head 
against  the  ceiling ;  a  cock  crows  in  the  street, 
hoarsely  prolonging  the  last  note ;  there  is  the 
rattle  of  a  cart ;  in  the  village  a  gate  is  creaking. 
1 20 


A   HOUSE  OF  TENTLEFOLK 

Then  the  jarring  voice  of  a  peasant  woman, 
•What?'  'Hey,  you  are  my  little  sweetheart/ 
cries  Anton  to  the  little  two-year-old  girl  he  is 
dandling  in  his  arms.  *  Fetch  the  kvas,'  repeats 
the  same  woman's  voice,  and  all  at  once  there 
follows  a  deathly  silence;  nothing  rattles,  no- 
thing is  moving  ;  the  wind  is  not  stirring  a  leaf; 
without  a  sound  the  swallows  fly  one  after 
another  over  the  earth,  and  sadness  weighs  on 
the  heart  from  their  noiseless  flight.  '  Here  I 
am  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  river/  thought 
Lavretsky  again.  '  And  always,  at  all  times 
life  here  is  quiet,  unhasting,'  he  thought ;  'who- 
ever comes  within  its  circle  must  submit ;  here 
there  is  nothing  to  agitate,  nothing  to  harass ; 
one  can  only  get  on  here  by  making  one's  way 
slowly,  as  the  ploughman  cuts  the  furrow  with 
his  plough.  And  what  vigour,  what  health 
abound  in  this  inactive  place  !  Here  under  the 
window  the  sturdy  burdock  creeps  out  of  the 
thick  grass  ;  above  it  the  lovage  trails  its  juicy 
stalks, and  theVirgin's  tears  fling  still  higher  their 
pink  tendrils ;  and  yonder  further  in  the  fields 
is  the  silky  rye,  and  the  oats  are  already  in  ear, 
and  every  leaf  on  every  tree,  every  grass  on  its 
stalk  is  spread  to  its  fullest  width.  In  the  love 
of  a  woman  my  best  years  have  gone  by,' 
Lavretsky  went  on  thinking,  'let  me  be  sobered 
by  the  sameness  of  life  here,  let  me  be  soothed 

121 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

and  made  ready,  so  that  I  may  learn  to  do  my 
duty  without  haste.'  And  again  he  fell  to  listen- 
ing to  the  silence,  expecting  nothing — and  at 
the  same  time  constantly  expecting  something ; 
the  silence  enfolded  him  on  all  sides,  the  sun 
moved  calmly  in  the  peaceful  blue  sky,  and  the 
clouds  sailed  calmly  across  it ;  they  seemed  to 
know  why  and  whither  they  were  sailing.  At 
this  same  time  in  other  places  on  the  earth 
there  is  the  seething,  the  bustle,  the  clash  of 
life ;  life  here  slipped  by  noiseless,  as  water 
over  marshy  grass ;  and  even  till  evening 
Lavretsky  could  not  tear  himself  from  the  con- 
templation of  this  life  as  it  passed  and  glided 
by  ;  sorrow  for  the  past  was  melting  in  his  soul 
like  snow  in  spring,  and  strange  to  say,  never 
had  the  feeling  of  home  been  so  deep  and  strong 
within  him. 


122 


XXI 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight,  Fedor  Ivanitch  had 
brought  Glafira  Petrovna's  little  house  into  order 
and  had  cleared  the  court-yard  and  the  g,,irden. 
From  Lavriky  comfortable  furniture  was  sent 
him  ;  from  the  town,  wine,  books,  and  papers  ; 
horses  made  their  appearance  in  the  stable  ;  in 
brief  Fedor  Ivanitch  provided  himself  with  every- 
thing necessary  and  began  to  live — not  precisely 
after  the  manner  of  a  country  landowner,  nor 
precisely  after  the  manner  of  a  hermit.  His 
days  passed  monotonously;  but  he  was  not  bored 
though  he  saw  no  one  ;  he  set  diligently  and  at- 
tentively to  work  at  farming  his  estate, rode  about 
the  neighbourhood  and  did  some  reading.  He 
read  little,  however;  he  found  it  pleasanter  to  lis- 
ten to  the  tales  of  old  Anton.  Lavretsky  usually 
sat  at  the  window  with  a  pipe  and  a  cup  of  cold 
tea.  Anton  stood  at  the  door,  his  hands  crossed 
behind  him,  and  began  upon  his  slow,  deliberate 
stories  of  old  times,  of  those  fabulous  times 
when  oats  and  rye  were  not  sold  by  measure» 


A    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

but  in  great  sacks,  at  two  or  three  farthings  a 
sack  ;  when  there  were  impassable  forests,  virgin 
steppes  stretching  on  every  side,  even  close  to 
the  town.  '  And  now,'  complained  the  old  man, 
whose  eightieth  year  had  passed,  'there  has 
been  so  much  clearing,  so  much  ploughing 
everywhere,  there's  nowhere  you  may  drive 
now.'  '  Anton  used  to  tell  many  stories,  too,  of 
his  mistress,  Glafira  Petrovna ;  how  prudent 
and  saving  she  was  ;  how  a  certain  gentleman, 
a  young  neighbour,  had  paid  her  court,  and 
used  to  ride  over  to  see  her,  and  how  she  was 
even  pleased  to  put  on  her  best  cap,  with 
ribbons  of  salmon  colour,  and  her  yellow  gown 
of  tru-tru  levafitine  for  him  ;  but  how,  later 
on,  she  had  been  angry  with  the  gentleman 
neighbour  for  his  unseemly  inquiry,  '  What, 
madam,  pray,  might  be  your  fortune  ?  '  and  had 
bade  them  refuse  him  the  house ;  and  how  it 
was  then  that  she  had  given  directions  that, 
after  her  decease,  everything  to  the  last  rag 
should  pass  to  Fedor  Ivanitch.  And,  indeed, 
Lavretsky  found  all  his  aunt's  household  goods 
intact,  not  excepting  the  best  cap  with  ribbons 
of  salmon  colour,  and  the  yellow  gown  oi tru-tru 
ie'vantine.  Of  old  papers  and  interesting  docu- 
ments, upon  which  Lavretsky  had  reckoned, 
there  seemed  no  trace,  except  one  old  book,  in 
which  his  grandfather,  Piotr  Andreitch,  had  in- 
124 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

scribed  in  one  place,  '  Celebration  in  the  city  of 
Saint  Petersburg  of  the  peace,  concluded  with 
the  Turkish  empire  by  his  Excellency  Prince 
Alexander  Alexandrovitch  Prozorovsky ; '  in 
another  place  a  recipe  for  a  pectoral  decoction 
with  the  comment,  *  This  recipe  was  given  to  the 
general's  lady,  Prascovya  Federovna  Soltikov, 
by  the  chief  priest  of  the  Church  of  the  Life- 
giving  Trinity,  Fedor  Avksentyevitch ; '  in 
another,  a  piece  of  political  news  of  this  kind  : 
'  Somewhat  less  talk  of  the  French  tigers  ; '  and 
next  this  entry :  '  In  the  Moscozv  Gazette  an 
announcement  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Senior- 
Major  Mihal  Petrovitch  Kolitchev.  Is  not  this 
the  son  of  Piotr  Vassilyevitch  Kolitchev  ? 
Lavretsky  found  also  some  old  calendars  and 
dream-books,  and  the  mysterious  work  of 
Ambodik  ;  many  were  the  memories  stirred  by 
the  well-known,  but  long-forgotten  Symbols 
and  Emblems.  In  Glafira  Petrovna's  little 
dressing-table,  Lavretsky  found  a  small  packet, 
tied  up  with  black  ribbon,  sealed  with  black 
sealing  wax,  and  thrust  away  in  the  very 
farthest  corner  of  the  drawer.  In  the  parcel 
there  lay  face  to  face  a  portrait,  in  pastel,  of  his 
father  in  his  youth,  with  effeminate  curls  stray- 
ing over  his  brow,  with  almond-shaped  languid 
eyes  and  parted  lips,  and  a  portrait,  almost 
effaced,  of  a  pale  woman  in  a  white  dress  with 

12ч 


A   HOUSE  OF  GPNTLEFOLK 

л  white  rose  in  her  hand — his  mother.  Of  her- 
self, Glafira  Petrovna  had  never  allowed  a 
portrait  to  be  taken.  '  I,  myself,  little  father, 
Fedor  Ivanitch/  Anton  used  to  tell  Lavretsky, 
'though  I  did  not  then  live  in  the  master's 
house,  still  I  can  remember  your  great-grand- 
father, Andrey  Afanasyevitch,  seeing  that  I  had 
come  to  my  eighteenth  year  when  he  died. 
Once  I  met  him  in  the  garden,  and  my  knees 
were  knocking  with  fright  indeed  ;  however,  he 
did  nothing,  only  asked  me  my  name,  and  sent 
me  into  his  room  for  his  pocket-handkerchief. 
He  was  a  gentleman — how  shall  I  tell  you — he 
didn't  look  on  any  one  as  better  than  himself. 
For  your  great-grandfather  had,  I  do  assure 
you,  a  magic  amulet ;  a  monk  from  Mount 
Athos  made  him  a  present  of  this  amulet.  And 
he  told  him,  this  monk  did,  "  It's  for  your  kind- 
ness, Boyar,  I  give  you  this  ;  wear  it,  and  you 
need  not  fear  judgment."  Well,  but  there,  little 
father,  we  know  what  those  times  were  like  ; 
what  the  master  fancied  doing,  that  he  did. 
Sometimes,  if  even  some  gentleman  saw  fit  to 
cross  him  in  anything,  he  would  just  stare  at  him 
and  say,  "You  swim  in  shallow  water;"  that 
was  his  favourite  saying.  And  he  lived,  your 
great-grandfather  of  blessed  memory,  in  a  small 
log-house ;  and  what  guods  he  left  behind 
him,  what  silver,  and  stores  of  all  kinds! 
126 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

All  the  storehouses  were  full  and  overflowing. 
He  was  a  manager.  That  very  decanter,  that 
you  were  pleased  to  admire,  was  his  ;  he  used 
to  drink  brandy  out  of  it.  But  there  was  your 
grandfather,  Piotr  Andreitch,  built  himself  a 
palace  of  stone,  but  he  never  grew  rich  ;  every- 
thing with  him  went  badly,  and  he  lived 
worse  than  his  father  by  far,  and  he  got  no 
pleasure  from  it  for  himself,  but  spent  all  his 
money,  and  now  there  is  nothing  to  remember 
him  by — not  a  silver  spoon  has  come  down 
from  him,  and  we  have  Glafira  Petrovna's 
management  to  thank  for  all  that  is  saved.' 

'  But  is  it  true,'  Lavretsky  interrupted  him, 
*  they  called  her  the  old  witch  ? ' 

'  What  sort  of  people  called  her  so,  I  should 
like  to  know ! '  replied  Anton  with  an  air  of 
displeasure. 

'  And,  little  father,'  the  old  man  one  day 
found  courage  to  ask,  '  what  about  our  mistress, 
where  is  she  pleased  to  fix  her  residence  ? ' 

'  I  am  separated  from  my  wife,'  Lavretsky 
answered  w^ith  an  effort,  '  please  do  not  ask 
questions  about  her.' 

'  Yes,  sir,'  replied  the  old  man  mournfully. 

After  three  weeks  had  passed  by,  Lavretsky 

rode  into  О to  the   Kalitins',   and    spent 

an  evening  with  them.  Lemm  was  there ; 
Lavretsky  took  a  great  liking  to  him.    Although. 

127 


.     л    HOUSE   OF    GENTLEFOLK 

thanks  to  his  father,  he  played  no  instrument, 
he  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  real  classical 
music.  Panshin  was  not  at  the  Kalitins'  that 
evening.  The  governor  had  sent  him  off  to 
some  place  out  of  the  town.  Lisa  played  alone 
and  very  correctly  ;  Lemm  woke  up,  got 
excited,  twisted  a  piece  of  paper  into  a  roil, 
and  conducted.  Marya  Dmitrievna  laughed  at 
first,  as  she  looked  at  him,  later  on  she  went  off 
to  bed  ;  in  her  own  words,  Beethoven  was  too 
agitating  for  her  nerves.  At  midnight  Lav- 
retsky  accompanied  Lemm  to  his  lodging  and 
stopped  there  with  him  till  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Lemm  talked  a  great  deal ;  his  bent 
figure  grew  erect,  his  eyes  opened  wide  and 
flashed  fire  ;  his  hair  even  stood  up  on  his  fore- 
head. It  was  so  long  since  any  one  had  shown 
him  any  sympathy,  and  Lavretsky  was  obviously 
interested  in  him,  he  was  plying  him  with 
sympathetic  and  attentive  questions.  This 
touched  the  old  man  ;  he  ended  by  showing 
the  visitor  his  music,  played  and  even  sang  in 
a  faded  voice  some  extracts  from  his  works, 
among  others  the  whole  of  Schiller's  ballad, 
Fridolin^  set  by  him  to  music,  Lavretsky 
admired  it,  made  him  repeat  some  passages, 
and  at  parting,  invited  him  to  stay  a  few  days 
with  him.  Lemm,  as  he  accompanied  him  as 
far  as  the  street,  agreed  at  once,  and  warmly 
128 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

pressed  his  hand  ;  but,  when  he  was  left  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  fresh,  damp  air,  in  the  just 
dawning  sunrise,  he  looked  round  him,  shud- 
dered, shrank  into  himself,  and  crept  up  to  his 
little  room,  with  a  guilty  air.  '  Ich  bin  wohl  night 
king'  (I  must  be  out  of  my  senses),  he  muttered, 
as  he  lay  down  in  his  hard  short  bed.  He  tried 
to  say  that  he  was  ill,  a  few  days  later,  when 
Lavretsky  drove  over  to  fetch  him  in  an  open 
carriage  ;  but  Fedor  Ivanitch  went  up  into  his 
room  and  managed  to  persuade  him.  What 
produced  the  most  powerful  effect  upon  Lemm 
was  the  circumstance  that  Lavretsky  had 
ordered  a  piano  from  town  to  be  sent  into  the 
country  expressly  for  him.  They  set  off  to- 
gether to  the  Kalitins'  and  spent  the  evening 
with  them,  but  not  so  pleasantly  as  on  the  last 
occasion.  Panshin  was  there,  he  talked  a  great 
deal  about  his  expedition,  and  very  amusingly 
mimicked  and  described  the  country  gentry  he 
had  seen  ;  Lavretsky  laughed,  but  Lemm  would 
not  come  out  of  his  corner,  and  sat  silent, 
slightly  tremulous  all  over  like  a  spider,  looking 
dull  and  sullen,  and  he  only  revived  when 
Lavretsky  began  to  take  leave.  Even  when 
he  was  sitting  in  the  carriage,  the  old  man  was 
still  shy  and  constrained  ;  but  the  warm  soft 
air,  the  light  breeze,  and  the  light  shadows,  the 
scent  of  the  grass  and  the  birch-buds,  the 
129  I 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

peaceful  light  of  the  starlit,  moonless  night,  the 
pleasant  tramp  and  snort  of  the  horses — all 
the  witchery  of  the  roadside,  the  spring  and 
the  night,  sank  into  the  poor  German's  soul, 
and  he  was  himself  the  first  to  begin  a  conver- 
sation with  Lavretsky. 


Ш39 


XXil 

He  began  talking  about  music,  about  Lisa, 
then  of  music  again.  He  seemed  to  enunciate 
his  words  more  slowly  when  he  spoke  of  Lisa. 
Lavretsky  turned  the  conversation  on  his  com- 
positions, and  half  in  jest,  offered  to  write  him 
a  libretto. 

'  H'm,  a  libretto  ! '  replied  Lemm  ;  '  no,  that 
is  not  in  my  line  ;  I  have  not  now  the  liveliness, 
the  play  of  the  imagination,  which  is  needed  for 
an  opera;  I  have  lost  too  much  of  my  power  .  .  . 
But  if  I  we»-e  still  able  to  do  something, — I 
should  be  contented  with  a  song;  of  course 
I  should  like  to  have  beautiful  words  .  .  .' 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  sat  a  long  while 
motionless,  his  eyes  lifted  to  the  heavens. 

'  For  instance,'  he  said  at  last,  '  something  in 
this  way  :  "  Ye  stars,  ye  pure  stars  !  " ' 

Lavretsky  turned  his  face  slightly  towards 
him  and  began  to  look  at  him. 

* "  Ye  stars,  pure  stars," '  repeated  Lemm.  .  . 

"  You  look  down  upon  the  righteous  and  the 

131 


A    HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

guilty  alike  .  .  .  but  only  the  pure  in  heart," 
— or  somethinj^  of  that  kind — "comprehend 
you  " — that  is,  no — "  love  you."  But  i  am  not 
a  poet.  I  'm  not  equal  to  it !  Something  of 
that  kind,  though,  something  lofty.' 

Lemm  pushed  his  hat  on  to  the  back  of  his 
head  ;  in  the  dim  twilight  of  the  clear  night  his 
face  looked  paler  and  younger. 

' "  And  you  tpo," '  he  continued,  his  voice 
gradually  sinking,  ' "  ye  know  who  loves,  who 
can  love,  because  ye,  pure  ones,  ye  alone  can 
comfort "...  No,  that 's  not  it  at  all !  I  am 
not  a  poet,'  he  said,  '  but  something  of  that  sort' 

*  I  am  sorry  I  am  not  a  poet,'  observed 
Lavretsky. 

'  Vain  dreams  ! '  replied  Lemm,  and  he  buried 
himself  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage.  He  closed 
his  eyes  as  though  he  were  disposing  himself  to 
sleep. 

A  few  instants  passed  .  .  .  Lavretsky  listened 
.  . .  '"  Stars,  pure  stars,  love," '  muttered  the  old 
man. 

*  Love,'  Lavretsky  repeated  to  himself.  He 
sank  into  thought — and  his  heart  grew  heavy. 

'  That  is  beautiful  music  you  have  set  to 
Fridolin,  Christopher  Fedoritch,'  he  said  aloud, 
'  but  what  do  you  suppose,  did  that  Fridolin  do, 
after  the  Count  had  presented  him  to  his  wile 
,  .  .  became  her  lover,  eh  ? ' 
132 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*You  think  so,'  replied  Lemm,  'probably 
because  experience,' — he  stopped  suddenly  and 
turned  away  in  confusion.  Lavretsky  laughed 
constrainedly,  and  also  turned  away  and  began 
gazing  at  the  road. 

The  stars  had  begun  to  grow  paler  and  the 
sky  had  turned  grey  when  the  carriage  drove 
up  to  the  steps  of  the  little  house  in  Vassily- 
evskoe.  Lavretsky  conducted  his  guest  to  the 
room  prepared  for  him,  retuilied  to  his  study 
and  sat  down  before  the  window.  In  the  garden 
a  nightingale  was  singing  its  last  song  before 
dawn,  Lavretsky  remembered  that  a  nightingale 
had  sung  in  the  garden  at  the  Kalitins' ;  he  re- 
membered, too,  the  soft  stir  in  Lisa's  eyes,  as 
at  its  first  notes,  they  turned  towards  the  dark 
window.  He  began  to  think  of  her,  and  his 
heart  was  calm  again.  *  Pure  maiden,'  he 
murmured  half-aloud  :  '  pure  stars,'  he  added 
with  a  smile,  and  went  peacefully  to  bed. 

But  Lemm  sat  a  long  while  on  his  bed,  a 
m.usic-book  on  his  knees.  He  felt  as  though 
sweet,  unheard  melody  was  haunting  him ; 
already  he  was  all  aglow  and  astir,  already  he 
felt  the  languor  and  sweetness  of  its  presence 
,  .  .  but  he  could  not  reach  it. 

'  Neither  poet  nor  musician  ! '  he  muttered  at 
last  .  .  .  And  his  tired  head  sank  wearily  on  to 
the  pillows. 

133 


XXIII 

The  next  morning  the  master  of  the  house  and 
his  guest  drank  tea  in  the  garden  under  an  old 
lime-tree. 

'  Maestro ! '  said  Lavretsky  among  other 
things,  '  you  will  soon  have  to  compose  a 
triumphal  cantata.' 

*  On  what  occasion  ?  * 

*  For  the  nuptials  of  Mr.  Panshin  and  Lisa. 
Did  you  notice  what  attention  he  paid  her 
yesterday  ?  It  seems  as  though  things  were  in 
a  fair  way  with  them  already.' 

'  That  will  never  be  ! '  cried  Lemm. 
'  Why  ? ' 

*  Because  it  is  impossible.  Though,  indeed/ 
he  added  after  a  short  pause,  'everything  is 
possible  in  this  world,  Especially  here  among 
you  in  Russia.' 

'  We  will  leave  Russia  out  of  the  question  for 
a  time  ;  but  what  do  you  find  amiss  in  this 
match  ? ' 

'  Everything  is  amiss,  everything.  Lisaveta 
134 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

Mihalovna  is  a  girl  of  high  principles,  serious, 
of  lofty  feelings,  and  he  ...  he  is  a  dilettante,  in 
a  word.' 

'  But  suppose  she  loves  him  ?' 

Lemm  got  up  from  the  bench. 

*  No,  she  does  not  love  him,  that  is  to  say, 
she  is  very  pure  in  heart,  and  does  not  know 
herself  what  it  means  .  .  .  love.  Madame  von 
Kalitin  tells  her  that  he  is  a  fine  young  man, 
and  she  obeys  Madame  von  Kalitin  because  she 
is  still  quite  a  child,  though  she  is  nineteen  ;  she 
says  her  prayers  in  the  morning  and  in  the 
evening — and  that  is  very  well  ;  but  she  does 
not  love  him.  She  can  only  love  what  is 
beautiful,  and  he  is  not,  that  is,  his  soul  is  not 
beautiful.' 

Lemm  uttered  this  whole  speech  coherently 
and  with  fire,  walking  with  little  steps  to  and  fro 
before  the  tea-table,  and  running  his  eyes  over 
the  ground. 

'  Dearest  maestro  ! '  cried  Lavretsky  suddenly, 
*  it  strikes  me  you  are  in  love  with  my  cousin 
yourself.' 

Lemm  stopped  short  all  at  once. 

'  I  beg  you,'  he  began  in  an  uncertain  voice, 
'  do  not  make  fun  of  me  like  that.  I  am  not 
crazy ;  I  look  towards  the  dark  grave,  not 
towards  a  rosy  future.' 

Lavretsky  felt  sorry  for  the  old  man  ;  he 
135 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENfLEFOLK 

begged  his  pardon.  After  morning  tea,  Lemm 
played  him  his  cantata,  and  after  dinner,  at 
Lavretsky's  initiative,  there  was  again  talk  of 
Lisa.  Lavretsky  listened  to  him  with  attention 
and  curiosity. 

*  What  do  you  say,  Christopher  Fedoritch,'  he 
said  at  last, '  you  see  everj^thing  here  seems  in 
good  order  now,  and  the  garden  is  in  full  bloom, 
couldn't  we  invite  her  over  here  for  a  day  with 
her  mother  and  my  old  aunt  ,  .  eh  ?  Would 
you  like  it  ?  ' 

Lemm  bent  his  head  over  his  plate. 

'  Invite  her,'  he  murmured,  scarcely  audibly. 

'  But  Panshin  isn't  wanted  ?' 

*  No,  he  isn't  wanted/  rejoined  the  old  man 
vvith  an  almost  child-like  smile. 

Two  days  later  Fedor  Ivanitch  set  off  to  the 
town  to  see  the  Kalitins. 


XXIV 

He  found  them  all  at  home,  but  he  did  not  at 
once  disclose  his  plan  to  them  ;  he  wanted  to 
discuss  it  first  with  Lisa  alone.  Fortune 
favoured  him  ;  they  were  left  alone  in  the 
drawing-room.  They  had  some  talk  ;  she  had 
had  time  by  now  to  grow  used  to  him — and 
she  was  not  shy  as  a  rule  with  any  one.  He 
listened  to  her,  watched  her,  and  mentally  re- 
peated Lemm's  words,  and  agreed  with  them. 
It  sometimes  happens  that  two  people  who  are 
acquainted,  but  not  on  intimate  terms  with  one 
another,  all  of  a  sudden  grow  rapidly  more  in- 
timate in  a  few  minutes,  and  the  consciousness 
of  this  greater  intimacy  is  at  once  expressed  in 
their  eyes,  in  their  soft  and  affectionate  smiles, 
and  in  their  very  gestures.  This  was  exactly 
what  came  to  pass  with  Lavretsky  and  Lisa. 
'  So  he  is  like  that,'  was  her  thought,  as  she 
turned  a  friendly  glance  on  him ;  '  so  you  are 
like  that,'  he  too  was  thinking.  And  so  he 
was  not  very  much  surprised  when  she  informed 
137 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

him,  not  without  a  little  faltering,  however,  that 
she  had  long  wished  to  say  something  to  him, 
but  she  was  afraid  of  offending  him. 

'  Don't  be  afraid  ;  tell  me,'  he  replied,  and 
stood  still  before  her. 

Lisa  raised  her  clear  eyes  to  him. 

'  You  are  so  good,'  she  began,  and  at  the 
same  time,  she  thought :  'Yes,  I  am  sure  he  is 
good '  .  .  '  you  will  forgive  me,  I  ought  not  to 
dare  to  speak  of  it  to  you  .  .  .  but — how  could 
you  .  .  .  why  did  you  separate  from  your  wife  ? ' 

Lavretsky  shuddered  :  he  looked  at  Lisa,  and 
sat  down  near  her. 

'  My  child,'  he  began,  '  I  beg  you,  do  not 
touch  upon  that  wound  ;  your  hands  are  tender, 
but  it  will  hurt  me  all  the  same.' 

'  I  know,'  Lisa  went  on,  as  though  she  did  not 
hear  him, '  she  has  been  to  blame  towards  you. 
I  don't  want  to  defend  her ;  but  what  God  has 
joined,  how  can  you  put  asunder  ?  ' 

'  Our  convictions  on  that  subject  are  too 
different,  Lisaveta  Mihalovna,'  Lavretsky  ob- 
served, rather  sharply  ;  '  we  cannot  understand 
one  another.' 

Lisa  grew  paler :  her  whole  frame  was 
trembling  slightly  ;  but  she  was  not  silenced. 

'  You  must  forgive,'  she  murmured  softly,  '  if 
you  wish  to  be  forgiven.' 

*  Forgive ! '  broke  in  Lavretsky.  '  Ought  you 
138 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

not  first  to  know  whom  you  are  interceding 
for?  Forgive  that  woman,  take  her  back  into 
my  home,  that  empty,  heartless  creature !  And 
who  told  you  she  wants  to  return  to  me  ?  She 
is  perfectly  contented  with  her  position,  I  can 
assure  you.  .  .  .  But  what  a  subject  to  discuss 
here  !  Her  name  ought  never  to  be  uttered  by 
you.  You  are  too  pure,  you  are  not  capable  of 
understanding  such  a  creature.' 

*  Why  abuse  her  ? '  Lisa  articulated  with  an 
effort.  The  trembling  of  her  hands  was  per- 
ceptible now.  'You  left  her  yourself,  Fedor 
Ivanitch.' 

'  But  I  tell  you,'  retorted  Lavretsky  with  an 
involuntary  outburst  of  impatience,  '  you  don't 
know  what  that  woman  is ! ' 

*  Then  why  did  you  marry  her  ? '  whispered 
Lisa,  and  her  eyes  fell. 

Lavretsky  got  up  quickly  from  his  seat 
'  Why  did  I  marry  her  ?  I  was  young  and 
inexperienced  ;  I  was  deceived,  I  was  carried 
away  by  a  beautiful  exterior.  I  knew  no 
women.  I  knew  nothing.  God  grant  you  may 
make  a  happier  marriage !  but  let  me  tell  you, 
you  can  be  sure  of  nothing.' 

'  I  too  might  be  unhappy,'  said  Lisa  (her 
voice  had  begun  to  be  unsteady),  '  but  then  I 
ought  to  submit,  I  don't  know  how  to  say  it  ; 

but  if  we  do  not  submit ' 

139 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

Lavretsky  clenched  his  hands  and  stamped 
with  his  foot. 

*  Don't  be  angry,  forgive  me,'  Lisa  faltered 
hurriedly. 

At  that  instant  Marya  Dmitrievna  came  in. 
Lisa  got  up  and  was  going  away. 

'  Stop  a  minute,'  Lavretsky  cried  after  her 
unexpectedly.  '  I  have  a  great  favour  to  beg 
of  your  mother  and  you  ;  to  pay  me  a  visit  in 
my  new  abode.  You  know,  I  have  had  a  piano 
sent  over  ;  Lemm  is  staying  with  me ;  the  lilac 
is  in  flower  now ;  you  will  get  a  breath  of 
country  air,  and  you  can  return  the  same  day — 
will  you  consent  ? '  Lisa  looked  towards  her 
mother ;  Marya  Dmitrievna  was  assuming  an 
expression  of  suffering ;  but  Lavretsky  did 
not  give  her  time  to  open  her  mouth  ;  he  at 
once  kissed  both  her  hands.  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna, who  was  always  susceptible  to  demon- 
strations of  feeling,  and  did  not  at  all  anticipate 
such  effusiveness  from  the  '  dolt,'  was  melted 
and  gave  her  consent.  While  she  was  de- 
liberating which  day  to  fix,  Lavretsky  went  up 
to  Lisa,  and,  still  greatly  moved,  whispered  to 
her  aside  :  '  Thank  you,  you  are  a  good  girl ;  I 
was  to  blame.'  And  her  pale  face  glowed  with 
a  bright,  shy  smile  ;  her  eyes  smiled  too — up  to 
that  instant  she  had  been  afraid  she  had 
offended  him. 

140 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'Vladimir  Nikolaitch  can  come  with  us?'  in- 
quired Marya  Dmitrievna. 

'  Yes,'  replied  Lavretsky, '  but  would  it  not  be 
better  to  be  just  a  family  party  ? ' 

'  Well,  you  know,  it  seems,'  began  Marya 
Dmitrievna. 

'  But  as  you  please,'  she  added. 

It  was  decided  to  take  Lenotchka  and 
Shurotchka.  Marfa  Timofyevna  refused  to 
join  in  the  expedition. 

'  It  is  hard  for  me,  my  darling,'  she  said,  'to 
give  my  old  bones  a  shaking ;  and  to  be  sure 
there 's  nowhere  for  me  to  sleep  at  your  place : 
besides,  I  can't  sleep  in  a  strange  bed.  Let  the 
young  folks  go  frolicking.' 

Lavretsky  did  not  succeed  in  being  alone 
again  with  Lisa ;  but  he  looked  at  her  in  such  a 
way  that  she  felt  her  heart  at  rest,  and  a  little 
ashamed,  and  sorry  for  him.  He  pressed  her 
hand  warmly  at  parting ;  left  alone,  she  fell  to 
musing. 


14» 


XXV 

When  Lavretsky  reached  home,  he  was  met  at 
the  door  of  the  drawing-room  by  a  tall,  thin 
тдп,  in  a  thread-bare  blue  coat,  with  a  wrinkled, 
but  lively  face,  with  dishevelled  grey  whiskers, 
a  long  straight  nose,  and  small  fiery  eyes.  This 
was  Mihalevitch,  who  had  been  his  friend  at  the 
university.  Lavretsky  did  not  at  first  recognise 
him,  but  embraced  him  warmly  directly  he  told 
his  name.  They  had  not  met  since  their  Moscow 
days.  Torrents  of  exclamations  and  questions 
followed  ;  long-buried  recollections  were  brought 
to  light.  Hurriedly  smoking  pipe  after  pipe, 
tossing  off  tea  at  a  gulp,  and  gesticulating  with 
his  long  hands,  Mihalevitch  related  his  adven- 
tures to  Lavretsky  ;  there  was  nothing  very 
inspiriting  in  them,  he  could  not  boast  of  suc- 
cess in  his  undertakings — but  he  was  constantly 
laughing  a  hoarse,  nervous  laugh.  A  month 
previously  he  had  received  a  position  in  the 
private  counting-house  of  a  spirit-tax  contractor, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  town  of 
142 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

О ,  and  hearing  of  Lavretsky's  return  from 

abroad  he  had  turned  out  of  his  way  so  as  to  see 
his  old  friend.  Mihalevitch  talked  as  impetu- 
ously as  in  his  youth  ;  made  as  much  noise 
and  was  as  effervescent  as  of  old.  Lavretsky 
was  about  to  acquaint  him  with  his  position, 
but  Mihalevitch  interrupted  him,  muttering  hur- 
riedly,' I  have  heard,  my  dear  fellow,!  have  heard 
— who  could  have  anticipated  it?'  and  at  once 
turned  the  conversation  upon  general  subjects. 

'  I  must  set  off  to-morrow,  my  dear  fellow,'  he 
observed  ;  '  to-day  if  you  will  excuse  it,  we  will 
sit  up  late.  I  want  above  all  to  know  what 
you  are  like,  what  are  your  views  and  con- 
victions, what  you  have  become,  what  life 
has  taught  you.'  (Mihalevitch  still  preserved 
the  phraseology  of  1830.)  'As  for  me,  I  have 
changed  in  much ;  the  waves  of  life  have 
broken  over  my  breast — who  was  it  said  that  ? 
— though  in  what  is  important,  essential  I  have 
not  changed  ;  I  believe  as  of  old  in  the  good, 
the  true :  but  I  do  not  only  believe — I  have 
faith  now,  yes,  I  have  faith,  faith.  Listen,  you 
know  I  write  verses  ;  there  is  no  poetry  in  them, 
but  there  is  truth.  I  will  read  you  aloud  my 
last  poem  ;  I  have  expressed  my  truest  convic- 
tions in  it.  Listen.'  Mihalevitch  fell  to  reading 
his  poem :  it  was  rather  long,  and  ended  with 
the  following  lines : 

43 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

I  gave  myself  to  new  feelings  with  all  my  heart, 
And  my  soul  became  as  a  child's  ! 
And  I  have  burnt  all  I  adored, 
And  now  adore  all  that  1  burnt.' 

As  he  uttered  the  two  last  h'nes,  Mihalevitch 
all  but  shed  tears  ;  a  slight  spasm — the  sign  of 
deep  emotion — passed  over  his  wide  mouth,  his 
ugly  face  lighted  up.  Lavretsky  listened,  and 
listened  to  him — and  the  spirit  of  antagonism 
was  aroused  in  him  ;  he  was  irritated  by  the 
ever-ready  enthusiasm  of  the  Moscow  student, 
perpetually  at  boiling-point  Before  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  had  elapsed  a  heated  argument 
had  broken  out  between  them,  one  of  these 
endless  arguments,  of  which  only  Russians  are 
capable.  After  a  separation  of  many  years 
spent  in  two  different  worlds,  with  no  cleat 
understanding  of  the  other's  ideas  or  even  ol 
their  own,  catching  at  words  and  replying  only 
in  words,  they  disputed  about  the  most  abstract 
subjects,  and  they  disputed  as  though  it  were  a 
matter  of  life  and  death  for  both  :  they  shouted 
and  vociferated  so  that  every  one  in  the  house 
was  startled,  and  poor  Lemm,  who  had  locked 
himself  up  in  his  room  directly  after  Mihalevitch 
arrived,  was  bewildered,  and  began  even  to  feel 
vaguely  alarmed. 

'  What  are  you  after  all  ?  a  pessimist  ? '  cried 
Mihalevitch  at  one  o'clock  in  the  night 
144 


A    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

*  Are  pessimists  usually  like  this  ? '  replied 
Lavretsky.  'They  are  usually  all  pale  and 
sickly — would  you  like  me  to  lift  you  with  one 
hand  ? ' 

'  Well,  if  you  are  not  a  pessimist  you  are  a 
scepteec,  that 's  still  worse.'  Mihalevitch's  talk 
had  a  strong  flavour  of  his  mother-country, 
Little  Russia.  '  And  what  right  have  you  to 
be  a  scepteec  ?  You  have  had  ill-luck  in  life,  let 
us  admit ;  that  was  not  your  fault ;  you  were 
born  with  a  passionate  loving  heart,  and  you 
were  unnaturally  kept  out  of  the  society  of 
women  :  the  first  woman  you  came  across  was 
bound  to  deceive  you.' 

'  She  deceived  you  too,'  observed  Lavretsky 
grimly. 

'  Granted,  granted  ;  I  was  the  tool  of  destiny 
in  it — what  nonsense  I  talk,  though — there  is  no 
such  thing  as  destiny ;  it  is  an  old  habit  of 
expressing  things  inexactly.  But  what  does 
that  prove  ? ' 

'  It  proves  this,  that  they  distorted  me  from 
my  childhood.' 

'Well,  it's  for  you  to  straighten  yourself! 
What 's  the  good  of  being  a  man,  a  male 
animal  ?  And  however  that  may  be,  is  it 
possible,  is  it  permissible,  to  reduce  a  personal, 
so  to  speak,  fact  to  a  general  law,  to  an  in- 
fallible principle  ? ' 

45  к 


л  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

'  How  a  principle  ? '  interrupted  Lavretsky ; 
*  I  don't  admit ' 

'  No,  it  is  your  principle,  your  principle,' 
Mihalevitch  interrupted  in  his  turn. 

'You  are  an  egoist,  that's  what  it  is  ! '  he  was 
thundering  an  hour  later :  '  you  wanted  personal 
happiness,  you  wanted  enjoyment  in  life,  you 
wanted  to  live  only  for  yourself.'    ■ 

'  What  do  you  mean  by  personal  happiness  ? ' 

*  And  everything  deceived  you  ;  everything 
crumbled  away  under  your  feet.' 

*  What  do  you  mean  by  personal  happiness, 
I  ask  you  ? ' 

'  And  it  was  bound  to  crumble  away.  Either 
you  sought  support  where  it  could  not  be  found, 
or  you  built  your  house  on  shifting  sands, 
or ' 

*  Speak  more  plainly,  or  I  can't  understand 
you.' 

*  Or — you  may  laugh  if  you  like — or  you  had 
no  faith,  no  warmth  of  heart ;  intellect,  nothing 
but  one  farthing's  worth  of  intellect  .  .  .  you  are 
simply  a  pitiful,  antiquated  Voltairean,  that's 
what  you  are  ! ' 

'  I  'ni  a  Voltairean  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  like  your  father,  and  you  yourself  do 
not  suspect  it.' 

'  After  that,'  exclaimed  Lavretsky,  '  I  have 
the  right  to  call  you  a  fanatic' 
146 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

*  Alas ! '  replied  Mihalevitch  with  a  contrite 
air,  '  I  have  not  so  far  deserved  such  an  exalted 
title,  unhappily.' 

'  I  have  found  out  now  what  to  call  you/ 
cried  the  same  Mihalevitch,  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  'You  are  not  a  sceptic,  nor  a  pessi- 
mist, nor  a  Voltairean,you  are  a  loafer,  and  you 
are  a  vicious  loafer,  a  conscious  loafer,  not  a 
simple  loafer.  Simple  loafers  lie  on  the  stove 
and  do  nothing  because  they  don't  know 
how  to  do  anything  ;  they  don't  think  about 
anything  either,  but  you  are  a  man  of  ideas — 
and  yet  you  lie  on  the  stove  ;  you  could  do 
something — and  you  do  nothing  ;  you  lie  idle 
with  a  full  stomach  and  look  down  from  above 
and  say,  "  It 's  best  to  lie  idle  like  this,  because 
whatever  people  do,  is  all  rubbish,  leading  to 
nothing." ' 

*  And  from  what  do  you  infer  that  I  lie  idle?' 
Lavretsky  protested  stoutly.  '  Why  do  you 
attribute  such  ideas  to  me  ? ' 

'  And,  besides  that,  you  are  all,  all  the  tribe 
of  you,'  continued  Mihalevitch,  '  cultivated 
loafers.  You  know  which  leg  the  German 
limps  on,  you  know  what's  amiss  with  the 
English  and  the  French,  and  your  pitiful  culture 
goes  to  make  it  worse,  your  shameful  idleness, 
your  abominable  inactivity  is  justified  by  it. 
Some  are  even  proud  of  it :  "I  'm  such  a  clever 
147 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

fellow,"  they  say,  "  I  do  nothing,  while  these 
fools  are  in  a  fuss."  Yes !  and  there  are  fine 
gentlemen  among  us — though  I  don't  say  this 
as  to  you — who  reduce  their  whole  life  to  a  kind 
of  stupor  of  boredom,  get  used  to  it,  live  in  it, 
like — like  a  mushroom  in  white  sauce,'  Mihale- 
vitch  added  hastily,  and  he  laughed  at  his  own 
comparison.  '  Oh !  this  stupor  of  boredom  is 
the  ruin  of  Russians.  Ours  is  the  age  for  work, 
and  the  sickening  loafer'  .  .  . 

'  But  what  is  all  this  abuse  about.?'  Lavretsky 
clamoured  in  his  turn.  '  Work — doing — you  'd 
better  say  what  is  to  be  done,  instead  of  abus- 
ing me,  Desmosthenes  of  Poltava  ! ' 

*  There,  what  a  thing  to  ask  !  I  can't  tell 
you  that,  brother  ;  that,  every  one  ought  to 
know  for  himself,'  retorted  the  Desmosthenes 
ironically.  '  A  landowner,  a  nobleman,  and 
not  know  what  to  do  ?  You  have  no  faith,  or 
else  you  would  know  ;  no  faith — and  no  in- 
tuition.' 

'  Let  me  at  least  have  time  to  breathe ;  you 
don't  let  me  have  time  to  look  round,'  Lav- 
retsky besought  him. 

'  Not  a  minute,  not  a  second ! '  retorted 
Mihalevitch  with  an  imperious  wave  of  the 
hand.  '  Not  one  second  :  death  does  not  delay, 
and  life  ought  not  to  delay.' 

'  And  what  a  time,  what  a  place  for  men  to 
148 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

think  of  loafing  ! '  he  cried  at  four  o'clock,  in  a 
voice,  however,  which  showed  signs  of  sleepi- 
ness; 'among  us!  now!  in  Russia!  where  every 
separate  individuality  has  a  duty  resting  upon 
him,  a  solemn  responsibility  to  God,  to  the 
people,  to  himself.  We  are  sleeping,  and  the 
time  is  slipping  away ;  we  are  sleeping,'  .  .  . 

'  Permit  me  to  observe,'  remarked  Lavretsky, 
*  that  we  are  not  sleeping  at  present,  but  rather 
preventing  others  from  sleeping.  We  are 
straining  our  throats  like  the  cocks — listen  ! 
there  is  one  crowing  for  the  third  time.' 

This  sally  made  Mihalevitch  laugh,  and 
calmed  him  down.  *  Good-bye  till  to-morrow,' 
he  said  with  a  smile,  and  thrust  his  pipe  into 
his  pouch. 

'Till  to-morrow,'  repeated  Lavretsky.  But 
the  friends  talked  for  more  than  an  hour  longer. 
Their  voices  were  no  longer  raised,  however, 
and  their  talk  was  quiet,  sad,  friendly  talk. 

Mihalevitch  set  off  the  next  day,  in  spite  of 
all  Lavretsky's  efforts  to  keep  him.  Fedor 
Ivanitch  did  not  succeed  in  persuading  him  to 
remain  ;  but  he  talked  to  him  to  his  heart's 
content.  Mihalevitch,  it  appeared,  had  not  a 
penny  to  bless  himself  with.  Lavretsky  had 
noticed  with  pain  the  evening  before  all  the 
tokens  and  habits  of  years  of  poverty  :  his 
boots  were  shabby,  a  button  was  off  on  the 
149 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

back  of  his  coat,  his  hands  were  unused  to 
gloves,  his  hair  wanted  brushing  ;  on  his  arrival, 
he  had  not  even  thought  of  asking  to  wash,  and 
at  supper  he  ate  like  a  shark,  tearing  his  meat 
in  his  fingers,  and  crunching  the  bones  with  his 
strong  black  teeth.  It  appeared,  too,  that  he 
had  made  nothing  out  of  his  employment,  that 
he  now  rested  all  his  hopes  on  the  contractor 
who  was  taking  him  solely  i-n  order  to  have  an 
'educated  man'  in  his  office.  For  all  that 
Mihalevitch  was  not  discouraged,  but  as  idealist 
or  cynic,  lived  on  a  crust  of  bread,  sincerely 
rejoicing  or  grieving  over  the  destinies  of 
humanity,  and  his  own  vocation,  and  troubling 
himself  very  little  as  to  how  to  escape  dying  of 
hunger.  Mihalevitch  was  not  married  :  but  had 
been  in  love  times  beyond  number,  and  had 
written  poems  to  all  the  objects  of  his  adora- 
tion ;  he  sang  with  especial  fervour  the  praises  of 
a  mysterious  black-tressed  '  noble  Polish  lady. 
There  were  rumours,  it  is  true,  that  this  '  noble 
Polish  lady '  was  a  simple  Jewess,  very  well 
known  to  a  good  many  cavalry  officers — but, 
after  all,  what  do  you  think — does  it  really 
make  any  difference? 

With    Lemm,   Mihalevitch  did   not  get  on  ; 
his   noisy   talk    and    brusque    manners    scared 
the   German,    who    was    unused   to   such   be- 
haviour.    One   poor   devil  detects  another  by 
150 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

instinct  at  once,  but  in  old  age  he  rarely  gets 
on  with  him,  and  that  is  hardly  astonishing,  he 
has  nothing  to  share  with  him,  not  even  hopes. 

Before  setting  off,  Mihalevitch  had  another 
long  discussion  with  Lavretsky,  foretold  his 
ruin,  if  he  did  not  see  the  error  of  his  ways, 
exhorted  him  to  devote  himself  seriously  to  the 
welfare  of  his  peasants,  and  pointed  to  himself 
as  an  example,  saying  that  he  had  been  puri- 
fied in  the  furnace  of  suffering  ;  and  in  the  same 
breath  called  himself  several  times  a  happy  man, 
comparing  himself  with  the  fowl  of  the  air  and 
the  lily  of  the  field. 

'  A  black  lily,  any  way,'  observed  Lavretsky. 

'  Ah,  brother,  don't  be  a  snob ! '  retorted 
Mihalevitch,  good-naturedly,  '  but  thank  God 
rather  that  there  is  pure  plebeian  blood  in  your 
veins  too.  But  I  see  you  want  some  pure, 
heavenly  creature  to  draw  you  out  of  your 
apathy.' 

'  Thanks,  brother,'  remarked  Lavretsky.  *  I 
have  had  quite  enough  of  those  heavenly 
creatures.' 

'  Silence,  ceeneec  ! '  cried  Mihalevitch. 

*  Cynic,'  Lavretsky  corrected  him. 

'Ceeneec,  just  so/  repeated  Mihalevitch  un- 
abashed. 

Even  when  he  had  taken  his  seat  in  the 
carriage,  to  which  his  flat,  yellow,  strangely 
151 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFObK 

light  trunk  was  carried,  he  still  talked  ; 
muffled  in  a  kind  of  Spanish  cloak  with  a 
collar,  brown  with  age,  and  a  clasp  of  two 
lion's  paws  ;  he  went  on  developing  his  views 
on  the  destiny  of  Russia,and  waving  his  swarthy 
hand  in  the  air,  as  though  he  were  sowing  the 
seeds  of  her  future  prosperity.  The  horses 
started  at  last. 

'  Remember  my  three  last  words,'  he  cried, 
thrusting  his  whole  body  out  of  the  carriage 
and  balancing  so, '  Religion,  progress,  humanity! 
.  .  .  Farewell' 

His  head,  with  a  foraging  cap  pulled  down 
over  his  eyes,  disappeared.  Lavretsky  was  left 
standing  alone  on  the  steps,  and  he  gazed 
steadily  into  the  distance  along  the  road  till 
the  carriage  disappeared  out  of  sight.  '  Perhaps 
he  is  right,  after  all,'  he  thought  as  he  went 
back  into  the  house  ;  '  perhaps  I  am  a  loafer.' 
Many  of  Mihalevitch's  words  had  sunk  irre- 
sistibly into  his  heart,  though  he  had  disputed 
and  disagreed  with  him.  If  a  man  only  has 
a  good  heart,  no  one  can  resist  him. 


15a 


XXVI 

Two  days  later,  Marya  Dmitrievna  visited 
Vassilyevskoe  according  to  her  promise,  with 
all  her  young  people.  The  little  girls  ran  at 
once  into  the  garden,  while  Marya  Dmitrievna 
languidly  walked  through  the  rooms  and  lan- 
guidly admired  everything.  She  regarded  her 
visit  to  Lavretsky  as  a  sign  of  great  conde- 
scension, almost  as  a  deed  of  charity.  She 
smiled  graciously  when  Anton  and  Apraxya 
kissed  her  hand  in  the  old-fashioned  house- 
servants'  style  ;  and  in  a  weak  voice,  speaking 
through  her  nose,  asked  for  some  tea.  To  the 
great  vexation  of  Anton,  who  had  put  on 
knitted  white  gloves  for  the  purpose,  tea  was 
not  handed  to  the  grand  lady  visitor  by  him, 
but  by  Lavretsky's  hired  valet,  who  in  the  old 
man's  words,  had  not  a  notion  of  what  was 
proper.  To  make  up  for  this,  Anton  resumed 
his  rights  at  dinner  :  he  took  up  a  firm  position 
behind  Marya  Dm  rievna's  chair,  and  would 
not  surrender  his  pos  to  any  one.  The  appear- 
153 


л   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

an  ее  of  guests  after  so  long  an  interval  at 
Vassilyevskoe  fluttered  and  delighted  the  old 
man  ;  it  was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  see  that  his 
master  was  acquainted  with  such  fine  gentlefolk. 
He  was  not,  however,  the  only  one  who  was 
fluttered  that  day  ;  Lemm,  too,  was  in  agitation. 
He  had  put  on  a  rather  short  snuff-coloured  coat 
with  a  swallow-tail,  and  tied  his  neckhandker- 
chief  stiffly,  and  he  kept  incessantly  coughing 
and  making  way  for  people  with  a  cordial  and 
affable  air.  Lavretsky  noticed  with  pleasure 
that  his  relations  with  Lisa  were  becoming 
more  intimate  ;  she  had  held  out  her  hand  to 
him  affectionately  directly  she  came  in.  After 
dinner  Lemm  drew  out  of  his  coat-tail  pocket, 
into  which  he  had  continually  been  fumbling,  a 
small  roll  of  music-paper  and  compressing  his 
lips  he  laid  it  without  speaking  on  the  piano- 
forte. It  was  a  song  composed  by  him  the 
evening  before,  to  some  old-fashioned  German 
words,  in  which  mention  was  made  of  the  stars. 
Lisa  sat  down  at  once  to  the  piano  and  played 
at  sight  the  song.  .  .  .  Alas !  the  music  turned 
out  to  be  complicated  and  painfully  strained  ; 
it  was  clear  that  the  composer  had  striven  to 
express  something  passionate  and  deep,  but 
nothing  had  come  of  it ;  the  effort  had  remained 
an  effort.  Lavretsk)^  and  Lisa  both  felt  this, 
and  Lemm  understood  it.  Without  uttering  a 
154 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

single  word,  he  put  his  sonj^  back  into  his 
pocket,  and  in  reply  to  Lisa's  proposal  to  play 
it  again,  he  only  shook  his  head  and  said  signifi- 
cantly :  '  Now — enough  ! '  and  shrinking  into 
himself  he  turned  away. 

Towards  evening  the  whole  party  went  out 
to  fish.  In  the  pond  behind  the  garden  there 
were  plenty  of  carp  and  groundlings.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  was  put  in  an  arm-chair  near  the 
bank,  in  the  shade,  with  a  rug  under  her  feet 
and  the  best  line  was  given  to  her.  Anton  as 
an  old  experienced  angler  offered  her  his  ser- 
vices. He  zealously  put  on  the  worms,  and 
clapped  his  hand  on  them,  spat  on  them  and 
even  threw  in  the  line  with  a  graceful  forward 
swing  of  his  whole  body.  Marya  Dmitrievna 
spoke  of  him  the  same  day  to  Fedor  Ivanitch 
in  the  following  phrase,  in  boarding-school 
French :  '  //  ny  a  plus  mainienant  de  ces  gens 
comme  fa,  coinme  autrefois.^  Lemm  with  the 
two  little  girls  went  off  further  to  the  dam  of 
the  pond  ;  Lavretsky  took  up  his  position  near 
Lisa.  The  fish  were  continually  biting,  the  carp 
were  constantly  flashing  in  the  air  with  golden 
and  silvery  sides  as  they  were  drawn  in  ;  the 
cries  of  pleasure  o^  the  lictie  girls  were  incessant, 
even  Marya  Dmitrievna  uttered  a  little  feminine 
shriek  on  two  occasions.  The  fewest  fish  were 
caught  by  Lavretsky  and  Lisa  ;  probably  this 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

was  because  they  paid  less  attention  than  the 
others  to  the  angh'ng,  and  allowed  their  floats 
to  swim  back  right  up  to  the  bank.  The  high 
reddish  reeds  rustled  quietly  around,  the  still 
water  shone  quietly  before  them,  and  quietly 
too  they  talked  together.  Lisa  was  standing 
on  a  small  raft ;  Lavretsky  sat  on  the  inclined 
trunk  of  a  willow  ;  Lisa  wore  a  white  gown, 
tied  round  the  waist  with  a  broad  ribbon,  also 
white  ;  her  straw  hat  was  hanging  on  one  hand, 
and  in  the  other  with  some  effort  she  held 
up  the  crooked  rod.  Lavretsky  gazed  at  her 
pure,  somewhat  severe  profile,  at  her  hair  drawn 
back  behind  her  ears,  at  her  soft  cheeks,  which 
glowed  like  a  little  child's,  and  thought,  'Oh, 
how  sweet  you  are,  bending  over  my  pond!' 
Lisa  did  not  turn  to  him,  but  looked  at  the 
water,  half  frowning,  to  keep  the  sun  out  of  her 
eyes,  half  smiling.  The  shade  of  the  lime-tree 
near  fell  upon  both. 

*  Do  you  know,'  began  Lavretsky,  *  I  have 
been  thinking  over  our  last  conversation  a  great 
deal,  and  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you 
are  exceedingly  good.' 

'That  was  not  at  all  my  intention  in ' 

Lisa  was  beginning  to  reply,  and  she  was  over- 
come with  embarrassment. 

*  You  are  good,'  repeated  Lavretsky.  '  I  am 
a  rough  fellow,  but  I  feel  that  every  one  must 

156 


A  HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

love  you.  There's  Lemm  for  instance;  he  is 
simply  in  love  with  you.' 

Lisa's  brows  did  not  exactly  frown,  they 
contracted  slightly ;  it  always  happened  with 
her  when  she  heard  something  disagreeable 
to  her. 

*  I  was  very  sorry  for  him  to-day,'  Lavretsky 
added,  *  with  his  unsuccessful  song.  To  be 
young  and  to  fail  is  bearable  ;  but  to  be  old  and 
not  be  successful  is  hard  to  bear  And  how 
mortifying  it  is  to  feel  that  one's  forces  are 
deserting  one  !  It  is  hard  for  an  old  man  to 
bear  such  blows !  ...  Be  careful,  you  have  a 
bite.  .  .  .  They  say,'  added  Lavretsky  after  a 
short  pause,  'that  Vladimir  Nikolaitch  has 
written  a  very  pretty  song.' 

'  Yes,'  replied  Lisa,  '  it  is  only  a  trifle,  but  not 
bad.' 

'  And  what  do  you  think,'  inquired  Lavret- 
sky ;  'is  he  a  good  musician?* 

'  I  think  he  has  great  talent  for  music  ;  but 
so  far  he  has  not  worked  at  it,  as  he  should.' 

'  Ah  !     And  is  he  a  good  sort  of  man  ? ' 

Lisa  laughed  and  glanced  quickly  at  Fedor 
Ivanitch. 

'What  a  queer  question!'  she  exclaimed, 
drawing  up  her  line  and  throwing  it  in  again 
further  off. 

'Why  is  it  queer?  I  ask  you  about  him,  as 
«57 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

one  who  has  only  lately  come  here,  as  a 
relation.' 

'  A  relation  ? ' 

'  Yes.  I  am,  it  seems,  a  sort  of  uncle  of 
yours  ? ' 

'  Vladimir  Nikolaitch  has  a  good  heart,'  said 
Lisa,  '  and  he  is  clever ;  maman  likes  him  very 
much.' 

'  And  do  you  like  him  ? ' 

'  He  is  nice  ;  why  should  I  not  like  him  ?* 

'  Ah ! '  Lavretsky  uttered  and  ceased  speak- 
ing. A  half-mournful,  half-ironical  expression 
passed  over  his  face.  His  steadfast  gaze  em- 
barrassed Lisa,  but  she  went  on  smiling. — '  Well 
God  grant  them  happiness  !  *  he  muttered  at  last, 
as  though  to  himself,  and  turned  away  his  head. 

Lisa  flushed. 

*  You  are  mistaken,  Fcdor  Ivanitch,'  she  said  : 
'  you  are  wrong  in  thinking.  .  .  .  But  don't  you 
like  Vladimir  Nikolaitch?'  she  asked  suddenly. 

'  No,  I  don't' 

•Why?' 

'  I  think  he  has  no  heart' 

The  smile  left  Lisa's  face. 

'It  is  your  habit  to  judge  people  severely,' 
she  observed  after  a  long  silence. 

'  I  don't  think  it  is.  What  right  have  I  to 
judge  others  severely,  do  you  suppose,  when  I 
must  ask  for  indulgence  myself?  Or  have  you 
158 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

forgotten  that  I  am  a  laughing  stock  to  every- 
one, who  is  not  too  indifferent  even  to  scoff?  .  .  . 
By  the  way/  he  added,  'did  you  keep  your 
promise  ? ' 

'  What  promise  ? ' 

'  Did  you  pray  for  me  ?  * 

*  Yes,  I  prayed  for  you,  and  I  pray  for  you 
every  day.  But  please  do  not  speak  lightly  of 
that.' 

Lavretsky  began  to  assure  Lisa  that  the  idea  of 
doing  so  had  never  entered  his  head,  that  he  had 
the  deepest  reverence  for  every  conviction  ;  then 
he  went  off  into  a  discourse  upon  religion,  its 
significance  in  the  history  of  mankind,  the  signi- 
ficance of  Christianity. 

'  One  must  be  a  Christian,'  observed  Lisa,  not 
without  some  effort,  'not  so  as  to  know  the 
divine  .  .  .  and  the  .  .  earthly,  but  because 
every  man  has  to  die.' 

Lavretsky  raised  his  eyes  in  involuntary 
astonishment  upon  Lisa  and  met  her  gaze. 

'What  a  strange  saying  you  have  just  uttered  !' 
he  said. 

'  It  is  not  my  saying/  she  replied. 

'  Not  yours.  .  .  .  But  what  made  you  speak 
of  death?' 

'  I  don't  know.     I  often  think  of  it* 

'  Often  ? ' 

•Yes.' 

159 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  One  would  not  suppose  so,  looking  at  you 
now  ;  you  have  such  a  bright,  happy  face,  you 
are  smiling.' 

'  Yes,  I  am  very  happy  just  now,'  replied  Lisa 
simply. 

Lavretsky  would  have  liked  to  seize  both  her 
hands,  and  press  them  warmly. 

*  Lisa,  Lisa  !  *  cried  Marya  Dmitrievna,  *  do 
come  here,  and  look  what  a  fine  carp  I  have 
caught.' 

*  In  a  minute,  maman^  replied  Lisa,  and 
went  towards  her,  but  Lavretsky  remained 
sitting  on  his  willow.  'I  talk  to  her  just  as  if 
life  were  not  over  for  me,'  he  thought.  As  she 
went  away,  Lisa  hung  her  hat  on  a  twig ;  with 
strange,  almost  tender  emotion,  Lavretsky 
looked  at  the  hat,  and  its  long  rather  crumpled 
ribbons.  Lisa  soon  came  back  to  him,  and 
again  took  her  stand  on  the  platform. 

'  What  makes  you  think  Vladimir  Nikolaitch 
has  no  heart  ? '  she  asked  a  few  minutes  later. 

'  I  have  told  you  already  that  I  may  be  mis- 
taken ;  time  will  show,  however.' 

Lisa  grew  thoughtful.  Lavretsky  began  to 
tell  her  about  his  daily  life  at  Vassilyevskoe, 
about  Mihalevitch,  and  about  Anton  ;  he  felt  a 
need  to  talk  to  Lisa,  to  share  with  her  every- 
thing that  was  passing  in  his  heart ;  she 
listened  so  sweetly,  so  attentively  ;  her  few 
i6o 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

replies  and  observations  seemed  to  him  so 
simple  and  so  intelligent.     He  even  told  her  so. 

Lisa  was  surprised. 

'  Really  ? '  she  said;  '  I  thought  that  I  was  like 
my  maid,  Nastya,  I  had  no  words  of  my  own. 
She  said  one  day  to  her  sweetheart,  '  You  must 
be  dull  with  me  ;  you  always  talk  so  finely  to 
me,  and  I  have  no  words  of  my  own.' 

*  And  thank  God  for  it ! '  thought  Lavretsky, 


i6i 


XXVII 

Meanwhile  the  evening  had  come  on,  Marya 
Dmitrievna  expressed  a  desire  to  return  home, 
^nd  the  little  girls  were  with  difficulty  torn 
away  from  the  pond,  and  made  ready.  Lavret- 
sky  declared  that  he  would  escort  his  guests 
half-way,  and  ordered  his  horse  to  be  saddled. 
As  he  was  handing  Marya  Dmitrievna  into  the 
coach,  he  bethought  himself  of  Lemm  ;  but  the 
old  man  could  nowhere  be  found.  He  had 
disappeared  directly  after  the  angling  was  over. 
Anton,  with  an  energy  remarkable  for  his  years, 
slammed  the  doors,  and  called  sharply,  '  Go 
on,  coachman  ! '  The  coach  started.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  and  Lisa  were  seated  in  the  back 
seat ;  the  children  and  their  maid  in  the  front. 
The  evening  was  warm  and  still,  and  the 
windows  were  open  on  both  sides.  Lavretsky 
trotted  near  the  coach  on  the  side  of  Lisa,  with 
his  arm  leaning  on  the  door — he  had  thrown  the 
reins  on  the  neck  of  his  smoothly-pacing  horse 
— and  now  and  then  he  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  the  young  girl.  The  glow  of  sunset  was 
162 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

disappearing  ;  night  came  on,  but  the  air  seemed 
to  grow  even  warmer.  Marya  Dmitrievna  was 
soon  slumbering,  the  little  girls  and  the  maid 
fell  asleep  also.  The  coach  rolled  swiftly  and 
smoothly  along ;  Lisa  was  bending  forward, 
she  felt  happy  ;  the  risin^  moon  lighted  up  her 
face,  the  fragrant  night  breeze  breathed  on  her 
eyes  and  cheeks.  Her  hand  rested  on  the 
coach  door  near  Lavretsky's  hand.  And  he  was 
happy ;  borne  along  in  the  still  warmth  of  the 
night,  never  taking  his  eyes  off  the  good  young 
face,  listening  to  the  young  voice  that  was 
melodious  even  in  a  Avhisper,  as  it  spoke  of 
simple,  good  things,  he  did  not  even  notice  that 
he  had  gone  more  than  half-way.  He  did  not 
want  to  wake  Marya  Dmitrievna,  he  lightly 
pressed  Lisa's  hand  and  said,  '  I  think  we  are 
friends  now,  aren't  we?'  She  nodded,  he 
stopped  his  horse,  and  the  coach  rolled  away, 
lightly  swaying  and  oscillating  up  and  down ; 
Lavretsky  turned  homeward  at  a  walking  pace. 
The  witchery  of  the  summer  night  enfolded 
him ;  all  around  him  seemed  suddenly  so 
strange — and  at  the  same  time  so  long  known, 
so  sweetly  familiar.  Everywhere  near  and  afar 
— and  one  could  see  into  the  far  distance, 
though  the  eye  could  not  make  out  dearly  much 
of  what  was  seen — all  was  at  peace  ;  youthful, 
blossoming  life  seemed  expressed  in  this  de<ep 
163 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

peace.  Lavretsky's  horse  stepped  out  bravely, 
swaying  evenly  to  right  and  left ;  its  great  black 
shadow  moved  along  beside  it.  There  was 
something  strangely  sweet  in  the  tramp  of  its 
hoofs,  a  strange  charm  in  the  ringing  cry  of 
the  quails.  The  stars  were  lost  in  a  bright 
mist ;  the  moon,  not  yet  at  the  full,  shone  with 
steady  brilliance  ;  its  light  was  shed  in  an  azure 
stream  over  the  sky,  and  fell  in  patches  of 
smoky  gold  on  the  thin  clouds  as  they  drifted 
near.  The  freshness  of  the  air  drew  a  slight 
moisture  into  the  eyes,  sweetly  folded  all  the 
limbs,  and  flowed  freely  into  the  lungs.  Lav- 
retsky  rejoiced  in  it,  and  was  glad  at  his  own 
rejoicing.  '  Come,  we  are  still  alive/  he  thought ; 
*  we  have  not  been  altogether  destroyed  by ' — 
he  did  not  say — by  whom  or  by  what.  Then 
he  fell  to  thinking  of  Lisa,  that  she  could  hardly 
love  Panshin,  that  if  he  had  met  her  under 
different  circumstances — God  knows  what  might 
have  come  of  it ;  that  he  understood  Lemm, 
though  Lisa  had  no  words  of '  her  own  ; '  but 
that,  he  thought,  was  not  true  ;  she  had  words 
of  her  own.  '  Don't  speak  lightly  of  that,'  came 
back  to  Lavretsky's  mind.  He  rode  a  long  way 
with  his  head  bent  in  thought,  then  drawing 
himself  up,  he  slowly  repeated  aloud  : 

•  And  I  have  burnt  all  I  adored, 
And  now  adore  all  that  I  burnt.* 
164 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Then  he  gave  his  horse  a  switch  with  the  whip, 
and  galloped  all  the  way  home. 

Dismounting  from  his  horse,  he  looked  round 
for  the  last  time  with  an  involuntary  smile  of 
gratitude.  Night,  still,  kindly  night  stretched 
over  hills  and  valleys  ;  from  afar,  out  of  its 
fragrant  depths — God  knows  whence — whether 
from  the  heavens  or  the  earth — rose  a  soft, 
gentle  warmth.  Lavretsky  sent  a  last  greeting 
to  Lisa,  and  ran  up  the  steps. 

The  next  day  passed  rather  dully.  Rain  was 
falling  from  early  morning ;  Lemm  wore  a 
scowl,  and  kept  more  and  more  tightly  com- 
pressing his  lips,  as  though  he  had  taken  an 
oath  never  td  open  them  again.  When  he  went 
to  his  room,  Lavretsky  took  up  to  bed  with 
him  a  whole  bundle  of  French  newspapers, 
which  had  been  lying  for  more  than  a  fort- 
night on  his  table  unopened.  He  began  in- 
differently to  tear  open  the  wrappings,  and 
glanced  hastily  over  the  columns  of  the  news- 
papers— in  which,  however,  there  was  nothing 
new.  He  was  just  about  to  throw  them  down 
— and  all  at  once  he  leaped  out  of  bed  as  if 
he  had  been  stung.  In  an  article  in  one  of  the 
papers,  M.  Jules,  with  whom  we  are  already 
familiar,  communicated  to  his  readers  a  '  mourn- 
ful intelligence,  that  charming,  fascinating 
Moscow  lady,'  he  wrote,  '  one  of  the  queens  of 
165 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

fashion,  who  adorned  Parisian  salons,  Madame 
de  Lavretsky,  had  died  almost  suddenly,  and 
this  intelligence,  unhappily  only  too  well- 
founded,  had  only  just  reached  him,  M.  Jules. 
He  was,'  so  he  continued,  '  he  might  say  a 
friend  of  the  deceased.' 

Lavretsky  dressed,  went  out  into  the  garden, 
and  till  morning  he  walked  up  and  down  the 
same  path. 


166 


XXVIII 

The  next  morning,  over  their  tea,  Lemm 
asked  Lavretsky  to  let  him  have  the  horses  to 
return  to  town.  *  It 's  time  for  me  to  set  to 
work,  that  is,  to  my  lessons/  observed  the  old 
man.  *  Besides,  I  am  only  wasting  time  here.' 
Lavretsky  did  not  reply  at  once  ;  he  seemed 
abstracted.  '  Very  good,'  he  said  at  last ;  '  I 
will  come  with  you  myself.'  Unaided  by  the 
servants,  Lemm,  groaning  and  wrathful,  packed 
his  small  box  and  tore  up  and  burnt  a  few 
sheets  of  music-paper.  The  horses  were 
harnessed.  As  he  came  out  of  his  own  room, 
Lavretsky  put  the  paper  he  had  read  last  night 
in  his  pocket.  During  the  whole  course  of  the 
journey  both  Lemm  and  Lavretsky  spoke  little 
to  one  another  ;  each  was  occupied  with  his  own 
thoughts,  and  each  was  glad  not  to  be  disturbed 
by  the  other  ;  and  they  parted  rather  coolly, 
which  is  often  the  way,  however,  with  friends  in 
Russia.  Lavretsky  conducted  the  old  man  to 
his  little  house ;  the  latter  got  out,  took  his 
167 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

trunk,  and  without  holding  out  his  hand  to  his 
friend  (he  was  holding  his  trunk  in  both  arm» 
before  his  breast),  without  even  looking  at  him, 
he  said  to  him  in  Russian,  *  good-bye  ! '  *  Good- 
bye/ repeated  Lavretsky,  and  bade  the  coach- 
man drive  to  his  lodging.     He  had  taken  rooms 

in  the  town  of  О .  .  .  After  writing  a  few 

letters  and  hastily  dining,  Lavretsky  went  to 
the  Kalitins'.  In  their  drawing-room  he  found 
only  Panshin,  who  informed  him  that  Marya 
Dmitrievna  would  be  in  directly,  and  at  once, 
with  charming  cordiality,  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  him.  Until  that  day,  Panshin  had 
always  treated  Lavretsky,  not  exactly  haughtily, 
but  at  least  condescendingly  ;  but  Lisa,  in  de- 
scribing her  expedition  of  the  previous  day  to 
Panshin,  had  spoken  of  Lavretsky  as  an  ex- 
cellent and  clever  man,  that  was  enough  ;  he 
felt  bound  to  make  a  conquest  of  an  '  excellent 
man.'  Panshin  began  with  compliments  to 
Lavretsky,  with  a  description  of  the  rapture  in 
which,  according  to  him,  the  whole  family  of 
Marya  Dmitrievna  spoke  of  Vassilyevskoe  ;  and 
then,  according  to  his  custom,  passing  neatly  to 
himself,  began  to  talk  about  his  pursuits,  and 
his  views  on  life,  the  world  and  government 
service  ;  uttered  a  sentence  or  two  upon  the 
future  of  Russia,  and  the  duty  of  rulers  to  keep 
a  strict  hand  over  the  country  ;  and  at  this 
168 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

point  laughed  light-heartedly  at  his  own  ex- 
pense, and  added  that  among  other  things  he 
had  been  intrusted  in  Petersburg  with  the  duty 
de  populariser  Г  idee  du  cadastre.  He  spoke 
somewhat  at  length,  passing  over  all  difficulties 
with  careless  self-confidence,  and  playing  with 
the  weightiest  administrative  and  political 
questions,  as  a  juggler  plays  with  balls.  The 
expressions  :  *  That 's  what  I  would  do  if  I  were 
in  the  government ; '  '  you  as  a  man  of  intelli- 
gence, will  agree  with  me  at  once, '  were  con- 
stantly on  his  lips.  Lavretsky  listened  coldly 
to  Panshin's  chatter  ;  he  did  not  like  this  hand- 
some, clever,  easily-elegant  young  man,  with  his 
bright  smile,  affable  voice,  and  inquisitive  eyes. 
Panshin,  with  the  quick  insight  into  the  feelings 
of  others,  which  was  peculiar  to  him,  soon 
guessed  that  he  was  not  giving  his  companion 
any  special  satisfaction,  and  made  a  plausible 
excuse  to  go  away,  inwardly  deciding  that 
Lavretsky  might  be  an  *  excellent  man,'  but  he 
was  unattractive,  aigri,  and,  en  soimne,  rather 
absurd.  Marya  Dmitrievna  made  her  appear- 
ance escorted  by  Gedeonovsky ;  then  Marfa 
Timofyevna  and  Lisa  came  in  ;  and  after  them 
the  other  members  of  the  household  ;  and 
then  the  musical  amateur,  Madame  Byelenitsin, 
arrived,  a  little  thinnish  lady,  with  a  languid, 
pretty,  almost  childish  little  face,  wearing 
169 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

a  rustling  dress,  a  striped  fan,  and  heavy  gold 
bracelets.  Her  husband  was  with  her,  a  fat 
red-faced  man,  with  large  hands  and  feet,  white 
eye-lashes,  and  an  immovable  smile  on  his  thick 
lips ;  his  wife  never  spoke  to  him  in  company, 
but  at  home,  in  moments  of  tenderness,  she 
used  to  call  him  her  little  sucking-pig.  Panshin 
returned  ;  the  rooms  were  very  full  of  people 
and  noise.  Such  a  crowd  was  not  to  Lavretsky's 
taste ;  and  he  was  particularly  irritated  by 
Madame  Byelenitsin,  who  kept  staring  at  him 
through  her  eye-glasses.  He  would  have  gone 
away  at  once  but  for  Lisa  ;  he  wanted  to  say  a 
few  words  to  her  alone,  but  for  a  long  time  he 
could  not  get  a  favourable  opportunity,  and  had 
to  content  himself  with  following  her  in  secret 
delight  with  his  eyes ;  never  had  her  face  seemed 
sweeter  and  more  лоЫе  to  him.  She  gained 
much  from  being  near  Madame  Byelenitsin. 
The  latter  was  for  ever  fidgeting  in  her  chair, 
shrugging  her  narrow  little  shoulders,  giving 
little  girlish  giggles,  and  screwing  up  her  eyes 
and  then  opening  them  wide  ;  Lisa  sat  quietly, 
looked  directly  at  every  one  and  did  not  laugh 
at  all.  Madame  Kalitin  sat  down  to  a  game  of 
cards  with  Marfa  Timofyevna,  Madame  Bye- 
lenitsin, and  Gedeonovsky,  who  played  very 
slowly,  and  constantly  made  mistakes,  frowning 
and  wiping  his  face  with  his  handkerchief. 
170 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Panshin  assumed  a  melancholy  air,  and  ex- 
presse-^  himself  in  brief,  pregnant,  and  gloomy 
phrases,  played  the  part,  in  fact,  of  the  un- 
appreciated genius,  but  in  spite  of  the  en- 
treaties of  Madame  Byelenitsin,  who  was  very 
coquettish  with  him,  he  would  not  consent  to 
sing  his  song ;  he  felt  Lavretsky's  presence  a 
constraint.  Fedor  Ivanitch  also  spoke  little ; 
the  peculiar  expression  of  his  face  struck  Lisa 
directly  he  came  into  the  room  ;  she  felt  at  once 
that  he  had  something  to  tell  her,  and  though 
she  could  not  herself  have  said  why,  she  was 
afraid  to  question  him.  At  last,  as  she  was 
going  into  the  next  room  to  pour  out  tea,  she 
involuntarily  turned  her  head  in  his  direction. 
He  at  once  went  after  her. 

'What  is  the  matter?'  she  said,  setting  the 
teapot  on  the  samovar. 

'  Why,  have  you  noticed  anything  ? '  he  asked. 

'  You  are  not  the  same  to-day  as  I  have 
always  seen  you  before.' 

Lavretsky  bent  over  the  table. 

*  I  wanted,'  he  began,  '  to  tell  you  a  piece  of 
news,  but  now  it  is  impossible.  However,  you 
can  read  what  is  marked  with  pencil  in  that 
article,'  he  added,  handing  her  the  paper  he  had 
brought  with  him.  '  Let  me  ask  you  to  keep  it 
a  secret ;  I  will  come  to-morrow  morning.' 

Lisa     was     greatly     bewildered.        Panshin 

171 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

appeared  in  the  doorway.  She  put  the  news- 
paper in  her  pocket. 

'Have  you  read  Obermann,  Lisaveta  Mihal- 
ovna?'  Panshin  asked  her  pensively. 

Lisa  made  him  a  reply  in  passing,  and  went 
out  of  the  room  and  up-stairs.  Lavretsky  went 
back  to  the  drawing-room  and  drew  near  the 
card-table.  Marfa  Timofyevna,  flinging  back 
the  ribbons  of  her  cap  and  flushing  with  annoy- 
ance, began  to  complain  of  her  partner,  Gedeon- 
ovsky,  who  in  her  words,  could  not  play  a  bit. 

'  Card-playing,  you  see,'  she  said,  *  is  not  so 
easy  as  talking  scandal.' 

The  latter  continued  to  blink  and  wipe  his 
face.  Lisa  came  into  the  drawing-room  and  sat 
down  in  a  corner  ;  Lavretsky  looked  at  her,  she 
looked  at  him,  and  both  felt  the  position  in- 
sufferable. He  read  perplexity  and  a  kind  of 
secret  reproachfulness  in  her  face.  He  could 
not  talk  to  her  as  he  would  have  liked  to  do  ; 
to  remain  in  the  same  room  with  her,  a  guest 
among  other  guests,  was  too  painful;  he  de- 
cided to  go  away.  As  he  took  leave  of  her, 
he  managed  to  repeat  that  he  would  come 
to-morrow,  and  added  that  he  trusted  in  her 
friendship. 

'  Come,'  she  answered  with  the  same  per- 
plexity on  her  face. 

Panshin  brightened  up  at  Lavretsky 's  depar- 
172 


л   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

ture  ;  he  began  to  give  advice  to  Gedeonovsky, 
paid  ironical  attentions  to  Madame  Byelenitsin, 
and  at  last  sang  his  song.  But  with  Lisa  he 
still  spoke  and  looked  as  before,  impressively 
and  rather  mournfully. 

Again  Lavretsky  did  not  sleep  all  night.  He 
was  not  sad,  he  was  not  agitated,  he  was  quite 
calm ;  but  he  could  not  sleep.  He  did  not 
even  remember  the  past ;  he  simply  looked  at 
his  life  ;  his  heart  beat  slowly  and  evenly ;  the 
hours  glided  by  ;  he  did  not  even  think  of 
sleep.  Only  at  times  the  thought  flashed 
through  his  brain  :  '  But  it  is  not  true,  it  is  all 
nonsense,'  and  he  stood  still,  bowed  his  head 
and  again  began  to  ponder  on  the  life  before 
him. 


173 


XXIX 

Marya  Dmitrievna  did  not  give  Lavretsky  an 
over- cordial  welcome  when  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance the  following  day.  *  Upon  my  word, 
he's  always  in  and  out,'  she  thought.  She  did 
not  much  care  for  him,  and  Panshin,  under 
whose  influence  she  was,  had  been  very  artful 
and  disparaging  in  his  praises  of  him  the  evening 
before.  And  as  she  did  not  regard  him  as  a 
visitor,  and  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to 
entertain  a  relation,  almost  one  of  the  family, 
it  came  to  pass  that  in  less  than  half-an-hour's 
time  he  found  himself  walking  in  an  avenue  in 
the  grounds  with  Lisa.  Lenotchka  and  Shur- 
otchka  were  running  about  a  few  paces  from 
them  in  the  flower-garden. 

Lisa  was  as  calm  as  usual  but  more  than 
usually  pale.  She  took  out  of  her  pocket  and 
held  out  to  Lavretsky  the  sheet  of  the  news- 
paper folded  up  small. 

'  That  is  terrible  ! '  she  said. 

Lavretsky  made  no  reply. 
174 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  But  perhaps  it  is  not  true,  though/  added 
Lisa. 

'  That  is  why  I  asked  you  not  to  speak  of  it 
to  any  one.' 

Lisa  walked  on  a  little. 

'  Tell  me/  she  began  :  '  you  are  not  grieved  ? 
not  at  all  ? ' 

'  I  do  not  know  myself  what  I  feel/  replied 
Lavretsky. 

'  But  you  loved  her  once  ? ' 

'  Yes.' 

'  Very  much  ? ' 

'  Yes.' 

'So  you  are  not  grieved  at  her  death?* 

'  She  was  dead  to  me  long  ago.' 

'  It  is  sinful  to  say  that.  Do  not  be  angry 
with  me.  You  call  me  your  friend :  a  friend 
may  say  everything.  To  me  it  is  really  terri- 
ble. .  .  .  Yesterday  there  was  an  evil  look  in 
your  face.  .  .  .  Do  you  remember  not  long  ago, 
how  you  abused  her,  and  she,  perhaps,  at  that 
very  time  was  dead  ?  It  is  terrible.  It  has  been 
sent  to  you  as  a  punishment.' 

Lavretsky  smiled  bitterly. 

'  Do  you  think  so  ?     At  least,  I  am  now  free.' 

Lisa  gave  a  slight  shudder. 

*  Stop,  do  not  talk  like  that.     Of  what  use  is 
your   freedom  to  you?     You  ought  not  to  be 
thinking  of  that  now,  but  of  forgiveness/ 
175 


A    HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

'  I  forgave  her  long  ago/  Lavretsky  interposed 
with  a  gesture  of  the  hand. 

'No,  that  is  not  it/  replied  Lisa,  flushing. 
'You  did  not  understand  me.  You  ought  to  be 
seeking  to  be  forgiven.' 

*  To  be  forgiven  by  whom  ? ' 

'  By  whom  ?  God.  Who  can  forgive  us,  but 
God?' 

Lavretsky  seized  her  hand. 

'  Ah,  Lisaveta  Mihalovna,  believe  me,'  he 
cried,  'I  have  been  punished  enough  as  it  is. 
I  have  expiated  everything  already,  believe 
me.' 

'That  you  cannot  know/  Lisa  murmured  in 
an  undertone.  'You  have  forgotten — not  long 
ago,  when  you  were  talking  to  me — you  were 
not  ready  to  forgive  her.' 

She  walked  in  silence  along  the  avenue. 

'  And  what  about  your  daughter  ?'  Lisa  asked, 
suddenly  stopping  short. 

Lavretsky  started. 

*0h,  don't  be  uneasy!  I  have  already  sent 
letters  in  all  directions.  The  future  of  my 
daughter,  as  you  call — as  you  say — is  assured. 
Do  not  be  uneasy.' 

Lisa  smiled  mournfully. 

'  But  you  are  right,'  continued  Lavretsky, 
'  what  can  I  do  with  my  freedom  ?  What  good 
is  it  to  me  ?' 

176 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

*When  did  you  get  that  paper?'  said  Lisa, 
without  replying  to  his  question. 

*  The  day  after  your  visit' 

'And  is  it  possible  you  did  not  even  shed 
tears  ? ' 

'  No,  I  was  thunderstruck  ;  but  where  were 
tears  to  come  from  ?  Should  I  weep  over  the 
past  ?  but  it  is  utterly  extinct  for  me !  Her 
very  fault  did  not  destroy  my  happiness,  but 
only  showed  me  that  it  had  never  been  at  all. 
What  is  there  to  weep  over  now?  Though 
indeed,  who  knows?  I  might,  perhaps,  have 
been  more  grieved  if  I  had  got  this  news  a 
fortnight  sooner.' 

'  A  fortnight  ? '  repeated  Lisa.  '  But  what 
has  happened  then  in  the  last  fortnight?' 

Lavretsky  made  no  answer,  and  suddenly 
Lisa  flushed  even  more  than  before. 

'Yes,  yes,  you  guess  why/  Lavretsky  cried 
suddenly,  'in  the  course  of  this  fortnight  I 
have  come  to  know  the  value  of  a  pure  woman's 
heart,  and  my  past  seems  further  from  me  than 
ever.' 

Lisa  was  confused,  and  she  went  gently 
into  the  flower-garden  towards  Lenotchka  and 
Shurotchka. 

'  But  I  am  glad  I  showed  you  that  news- 
paper,' said  Lavretsky,  walking  after  her ; 
'already  I  have  grown  used  to  hiding  nothing 
177  M 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

from  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  repay  me  with 
the  same  confidence.' 

'Do  you  expect  it?'  said  Lisa,  standing 
still.  '  In  that  case  I  ought — but  no !  It  is 
impossible.' 

'  What  is  it  ?     Tell  me,  tell  me.' 

'  Really,  I  believe  I  ought  not — after  all, 
though,'  added  Lisa,  turning  to  Lavretsky  with 
a  smile,  *  what's  the  good  of  half  confidence? 
Do  you  know  I  received  a  letter  to-day  ?' 

'  From  Panshin  ? ' 

'Yes.     How  did  you  know?' 

*He  asks  for  your  hand?* 

'  Yes,'  replied  Lisa,  looking  Lavretsky  straight 
in  the  face  with  a  serious  expression. 

Lavretsky  on  his  side  looked  seriously  at 
Lisa. 

'  Well,  and  what  answer  have  you  given  him  ? 
he  managed  to  say  at  last. 

'  I  don't  know  what  answer  to  give,'  replied 
Lisa,  letting  her  clasped  hands  fall. 

'  How  is  that  ?     Do  you  love  him,  then  ? ' 

'Yes,  I  like  him  ;  he  seems  a  nice  man.' 

'You  said  the  very  same  thing,  and  in  the 
very  same  words,  three  days  ago.  I  want  to 
know  do  you  love  him  with  that  intense  pas- 
sionate feeling  which  we  usually  call  love  ? ' 

'  As  you  understand  it — no.' 

'You're  not  in  love  with  him?' 
178 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*  No.     But  is  that  necessary  ?' 
•What  do  you  mean  ? ' 

'Mamma  likes  him,'  continued  Lisa,  'he 
is  kind  ;  I  have  nothing  against  him.' 

'  You  hesitate,  however.' 

'  Yes — and  perhaps — you,  j^ur  words  are  the 
cause  of  it.  Do  you  remember  what  you  said 
three  days  ago  ?     But  that  is  weakness.' 

'  О  my  child  ! '  cried  Lavretsky  suddenly, 
and  his  voice  was  shaking,  '  don't  cheat  your- 
self with  sophistries,  don't  call  weakness  the 
cry  of  your  heart,  which  is  not  ready  to  give 
itself  without  love.  Do  not  take  on  yourself 
such  a  fearful  responsibility  to  this  man,  whom 
you  don't  love,  though  you  are  ready  to  belong 
to  him.' 

'  I  'm  obeying,  I  take  nothing  on  myself,' 
Lisa  was  murmuring. 

•  Obey  your  heart ;  only  that  will  tell  you  the 
truth,'  Lavretsky  interrupted  her.  '  Experience, 
prudence,  all  that  is  dust  and  ashes  1  Do  not 
deprive  yourself  of  the  best,  of  the  sole  happi- 
ness on  earth.' 

'  Do  you  say  that,  Fedor  Ivanitch  ?  You 
yourself  married  for  love,  and  were  you 
happy  ? ' 

Lavretsky  threw  up  his  arms. 

'  Ah,  don't  talk  about  me  !  You  can't  even 
understand  all  that  a  young,  inexperienced, 
179 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

badly  brought-up  boy  may  mistake  for  love! 
Indeed  though,  after  all,  why  should  I  be  unfair 
to  myself?  I  told  you  just  now  that  I  had  not 
had  happiness.     No  !  I  was  happy  ! ' 

*  It  seems  to  me,  Fedor  Ivanitch,'  Lisa  mur- 
mured in  a  low  voice — when  she  did  not  agree 
with  the  person  who  she  was  talking  to,  she 
always  dropped  her  voice  ;  and  now  too  she 
was  deeply  moved — 'happiness  on  earth  does 
not  depend  on  ourselves.' 

'  On  ourselves,  ourselves,  believe  me'  (he 
seized  both  her  hands  ;  Lisa  grew  pale  and 
almost  with  terror  but  still  steadfastly  looked 
at  him) :  '  if  only  we  do  not  ruin  our  lives. 
For  some  people  marriage  for  love  may  be 
unhappiness  ;  but  not  for  you,  with  your  calm 
temperament,  and  your  clear  soul ;  I  beseech 
you,  do  not  marry  without  love,  from  a  sense 
of  duty,  self-sacrifice,  or  anything.  .  .  .  That  is 
infidelity,  that  is  mercenary,  and  worse  still. 
Believe  me, — I  have  the  right  to  say  so ;  I  have 
paid  dearly  for  the  right.   And  if  your  God .' 

At  that  instant  Lavretsky  noticed  that 
Lenotchka  and  Shurotchka  were  standing 
near  Lisa,  and  staring  in  dumb  amazement  at 
him.  He  dropped  Lisa's  hands,  saying  hur- 
riedly, '  I  beg  your  pardon,'  and  turned  away 
towards  the  house. 

'  One  thing  only  I  beg  of  you,'  he  added, 
1 80 


A   HOUSE  OF      ENTLEFOLK 

returning  again  to  Lisa  :  'don't  decide  at  once, 
wait  a  little,  think  of  what  I  have  said  to  you. 
Even  if  you  don't  believe  me,  even  if  you  did 
decide  on  a  marriage  of  prudence — even  in  that 
case  you  mustn't  marry  Panshin.  He  can't  be 
your  husband.  You  will  promise  me  not  to  be 
in  a  hurry,  won't  you  ? ' 

Lisa  tried  to  answer  Lavretsky,  but  she  did 
not  utter  a  word — not  because  she  was  resolved 
to  'be  in  a  hurry,'  but  because  her  heart  was 
beating  too  violently  and  a  feeling,  akin  to 
terror,  stopped  her  breat]>. 


i8i 


XXX 

As  he  was  coming  away  from  the  Kalitins, 
Lavretsky  met  Panshin  ;  they  bowed  coldly  to 
one  another.  Lavretsky  went  to  his  lodgings, 
and  locked  himself  in.  He  was  experiencing 
emotions  such  as  he  had  hardly  ever  experienced 
before.  How  long  ago  was  it  since  he  had 
thought  himself  in  a  state  of  peaceful  petrifac- 
tion ?  How  loiv:^  was  it  since  he  had  felt  as  he 
had  expressed  himself,  at  the  very  bottom  of 
the  river  ?  What  had  changed  his  position  ? 
What  had  brought  him  out  of  his  solitude  ? 
The  most  ordinary,  inevitable,  though  always 
unexpected  event,  death  ?  Yes  ;  but  he  was 
not  thinking  so  much  of  his  wife's  death  and  his 
own  freedom,  as  of  this  question — what  answer 
would  Lisa  give  Panshin  ?  He  felt  that  in  the 
course  of  the  last  three  days,  he  had  come  to 
look  at  her  with  different  eyes  ;  he  remembered 
how  after  returning  home  when  he  thought  of 
her  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  he  had  said  to 
himself, 'if  only!'  .  .  .  That  4f  only' — in  which 
he  had  referred  to  the  past,  to  the  impossible, 
182 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

had  come  to  pass,  though  not  as  he  had 
imagined  it, — but  his  freedom  alone  was  little. 
'  She  will  obey  her  mother,'  he  thought,  '  she 
will  marry  Panshin  ;  but  even  if  she  refuses 
him,  won't  it  be  just  the  same  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned  ?'  Going  up  to  the  looking-glass  he 
minutely  scrutinised  his  own  face  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

The  day  passed  quickly  by  in  these  medita- 
tions ;  and  evening  came.  Lavretsky  went  to 
the  Kalitins'.  He  walked  quickly,  but  his  pace 
slackened  as  he  drew  near  the  house.  Before 
the  steps  was  standing  Panshin's  light  carriage. 
'  Come,'  thought  Lavretsky,  '  I  will  not  be  an 
egoist ' — and  he  went  into  the  house.  He  met 
with  no  one  within-doors,  and  there  was  no  sound 
in  the  drawing-room  ;  he  opened  the  door  and 
saw  Marya  Dmitrievna  playing  picquet  with 
Panshin.  Panshin  bowed  to  him  without  speak- 
ing, but  the  lady  of  the  house  cried,  '  Well,  this 
is  unexpected!'  and  slightly  frowned.  Lavretsky 
sat  down  near  her,  and  began  to  look  at  her  cards. 

'  Do  you  know  how  to  play  picquet  ? '  she 
asked  him  with  a  kind  of  hidden  vexation,  and 
then  declared  that  she  had  thrown  away  a 
wrong  card. 

Panshin  counted  ninety,  and  began  calmly 
and  urbanely  taking  tricks  with  a  severe  and 
dignified  expression  of  face.  So  it  befits 
183 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

diplomatists  to  play  ;  this  was  no  doubt  how 
he  played  in  Petersburg  with  some  influential 
dignitary,  whom  he  wished  to  impress  with  a 
favourable  opinion  of  his  solidity  and  maturity. 
'  A  hundred  and  one,  a  hundred  and  two,  hearts, 
a  hundred  and  three,'  sounded  his  voice  in 
measured  tones,  and  Lavretsky  could  not 
decide  whether  it  had  a  ring  of  reproach  or  of 
self-satisfaction. 

'  Can  I  see  Marfa  Timofyevna  ? '  he  inquired, 
observing  that  Panshin  was  setting  to  work  to 
shuffle  the  cards  with  still  more  dignity.  There 
was  not  a  trace  of  the  artist  to  be  detected  in 
him  now. 

'  I  think  you  can.  She  is  at  home,  up-stairs,* 
replied  Marya  Dmitrievna  ;  '  inquire  for  her.' 

Lavretsky  went  up-stairs.  He  found  Marfa 
Timofyevna  also  at  cards  ;  she  was  playing 
old  maid  with  Nastasya  Karpovna.  Roska 
barked  at  him  ;  but  both  the  old  ladies  wel- 
comed him  cordially.  Marfa  Timofyevna 
especially  seemed  in  excellent  spirits. 

'  Ah  !  Fedya  ! '  she  began,  '  pray  sit  down,  my 
dear.  We  are  just  finishing  our  game.  Would 
you  like  some  preserve  ?  Shurotchka,  bring 
him  a  pot  of  strawberry.  You  don't  want 
any?  Well,  sit  there;  only  you  mustn't  smoke  ; 
I  can't  bear  your  tobacco,  and  it  makes  Matross 
sneeze.' 

184 


A    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

Lavretsky  made  haste  to  assure  her  that  he 
had  not  the  least  desire  to  smoke. 

'  Have  you  been  down-stairs  ? '  the  old  lady 
continued.  '  Whom  did  you  see  there  ?  Is 
Panshin  still  on  view?  Did  you  see  Lisa?  No? 
She  was  meaning  to  come  up  here.  And  here 
she  is  :  speak  of  angels ' 

Lisa  came  into  the  room,  and  she  flushed 
when  she  saw  Lavretsky. 

*  I  came  in  for  a  minute,  Marfa  Timofyevna,' 
she  was  beginning. 

'  Why  for  a  minute  ? '  interposed  the  old 
lady.  '  Why  are  you  always  in  such  a  hurry, 
you  young  people  ?  You  see  I  have  a  visitor  ; 
talk  to  him  a  little,  and  entertain  him.' 

Lisa  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  ;  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  Lavretsky — and  felt  that  it 
was  impossible  not  to  let  him  know  how  her 
interview  with  Panshin  had  ended.  But  how 
was  she  to  do  it  ?  She  felt  both  awkward  and 
ashamed.  She  had  not  long  known  him,  this 
man  who  rarely  went  to  church,  and  took  his 
wife's  death  so  calmly — and  here  was  she,  con- 
fiding all  her  secrets  to  him  ...  It  was  true  he 
took  an  interest  in  her  ;  she  herself  trusted  him 
and  felt  drawn  to  him  ;  but  all  the  same,  she 
was  ashamed,  as  though  a  stranger  had  been 
into  her  pure,  maiden  bower. 

Marfa  Timofsevna  came  to  her  assistance. 
185 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*  Well,  if  you  won't  entertain  him,'  said  Marfa 
Timofyevna,  '  who  will,  poor  fellow  ?  I  am 
too  old  for  him,  he  is  too  clever  for  me,  and 
for  Nastasya  Karpovna  he's  too  old,  it 's  only 
the  quite  young  men  she  will  look  at.' 

'How  can  I  entertain  Fedor  Ivanitch?*  said 
Lisa.  '  If  he  likes,  had  I  not  better  play  him 
something  on  the  piano?'  she  added  irresolutely. 

'  Capital  ;  you  're  my  clever  girl/  rejoined 
Marfa  Timofyevna.  '  Step  down-stairs,  my 
dears  ;  when  you  have  finished,  come  back  :  I 
have  been  made  old  maid,  I  don't  like  it,  I 
want  to  have  my  revenge.' 

Lisa  got  up.  Lavretsky  went  after  her.  As 
she  went  down  the  staircase,  Lisa  stopped. 

'  They  say  truly,'  she  began,  '  that  people's 
hearts  are  full  of  contradictions.  Your  example 
ought  to  frighten  me,  to  make  me  distrust 
marriage  for  love  ;  but  I ' 

*  You  have  refused  him  ? '  interrupted  Lav- 
retsky. 

'  No  ;  but  I  have  not  consented  either.  I 
told  him  everything,  everything  I  felt,  and 
asked  him  to  wait  a  little.  Are  you  pleased 
with  me?'  she  added  with  a  swift  smile — and 
with  a  light  touch  of  her  hand  on  the  banister 
she  ran  down  the  stairs. 

'  What  shall  I  play  to  you  ? '  she  asked,  open- 
ing the  piano. 

i86 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

*  What  you  like,'  answered  Lavretsky  as  he 
sat  down  so  that  he  could  look  at  her. 

Lisa  began  to  play,  and  for  a  long  while  she 
did  not  lift  her  eyes  from  her  fingers.  She 
glanced  at  last  at  Lavretsky,  and  stopped  short ; 
his  face  seemed  strange  and  beautiful  to  her. 

'  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ? '  she  asked. 

*  Nothing,'  he  replied  ;  '  I  'm  very  happy  ; 
I  'm  glad  of  you,  I  'm  glad  to  see  you — go  on.' 

'  It  seems  to  me,'  said  Lisa  a  few  moments 
later, '  that  if  he  had  really  loved  me,  he  would 
not  have  written  that  letter ;  he  must  have  felt 
that  I  could  not  give  him  an  answer  now.' 

'  That  is  of  no  consequence,'  observed  Lav- 
retsky, 'what  is  important  is  that  you  don't  love 
him.' 

'  Stop,  how  can  we  talk  like  this  ?  I  keep 
thinking  of  your  dead  wife,  and  you  frighten 
me.' 

'  Don't  you  think,  Voldemar,  that  my  Liseta 
plays  charmingly?'  Marya  Dmitrievna  was 
saying  at  that  moment  to  Panshin. 

*  Yes,'  answered  Panshin,  '  very  charmingly.' 
Marya    Dmitrievna   looked    tenderly  at  her 

young  partner,  but  the  latter  assumed  a  still 
more  important  and  care-worn  air  and  called 
fourteen  kings. 


T87 


XXXI 

Lavretsky  was  not  a  young  man ;  he  could  not 
long  delude  himself  as  to  the  nature  of  the  feeling 
inspired  in  him  by  Lisa;  he  was  brought  on  that 
day  to  the  final  conviction  that  he  loved  her. 
This  conviction  did  not  give  him  any  great 
pleasure.  '  Have  I  really  nothing  better  to  do/ 
he  thought,  *at  thirty-five  than  "to  put  my  soul 
into  a  woman's  keeping  again  ?  But  Lisa  is 
not  like  her  ;  she  would  not  demand  degrading 
sacrifices  from  me :  she  would  not  tempt  me 
away  from  my  duties  ;  she  would  herself  incite 
me  to  hard  honest  work,  and  we  would  walk 
hand  in  hand  towards  a  noble  aim.  Yes,'  he  con- 
cluded his  reflections,  '  that 's  all  very  fine,  but 
the  worst  of  it  is  that  she  does  not  in  the  least 
wish  to  walk  hand  in  hand  with  me.  She  meant 
it  when  she  said  that  I  frightened  her.  But  she 
doesn't  love  Panshin  either — a  poor  consola- 
tion ! ' 

Lavretsky  went  back  to  Vassilyevskoe,  but 
he  could  not  get  through  four  days  there — so 
iS8 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

dull  it  seemed  to  him.  He  was  also  in  agonies 
of  suspense  ;  the  news  announced  by  M.  Jules 
required  confirmation,  and  he  had  received  no 
letters  of  any  kind.  He  returned  to  the  town 
and  spent  an  evening  at  the  Kalitins'.  He  could 
easily  see  that  Marya  Dmitrievna  had  been  set 
against  him  ;  but  he  succeeded  in  softening  her 
a  little,  by  losing  fifteen  roubles  to  her  at 
picquet,  and  he  spent  nearly  half  an  hour 
almost  alone  with  Lisa  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
her  mother  had  advised  her  the  previous  even- 
ing not  to  be  too  intimate  with  a  man  qui  a  un 
si  grand  ridicule.  He  found  a  change  in  her; 
she  had  become,  as  it  were,  more  thoughtful. 
She  reproached  him  for  his  absence  and  asked 
him  would  he  not  go  on  the  morrow  to  mass  ? 
(The  next  day  was  Sunday.) 

'  Do  go,'  she  said  before  he  had  time  to 
answer,  *  we  will  pray  together  for  the  repose  of 
her  soul.'  Then  she  added  that  she  did  not  know 
how  to  act — she  did  not  know  whether  she  had 
the  right  to  make  Panshin  wait  any  longer  for 
her  decision. 

*  Why  so  ?  '  inquired  Lavretsky. 

'  Because,'  she  said,  '  I  begin  now  to  suspect 
what  that  decision  will  be.' 

She  declared  that  her  head  ached  and  went 
to  her  own  room  up-stairs,  hesitatingly  holding 
out  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  Lavretsky 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

The  next  day  Lavretsky  went  to  mass.  Lisa 
was  already  in  the  church  when  he  came  in. 
She  noticed  him  though  she  did  not  turn  round 
towards  him.  She  prayed  fervently,  her  eyes 
were  full  of  a  calm  light,  calmly  she  bowed  her 
head  and  lifted  it  again.  He  felt  that  she  was 
praying  for  him  too,  and  his  heart  was  filled 
with  a  marvellous  tenderness.  He  was  happy 
and  a  little  ashamed.  The  people  reverently 
standing,  the  homely  faces,  the  harmonious 
singing,  the  scent  of  incense,  the  long  slanting 
gleams  of  light  from  the  windows,  the  very  dark- 
ness of  the  walls  and  arched  roofs,  all  went  to 
his  heart.  For  long  he  had  not  been  to  church, 
for  long  he  had  not  turned  to  God :  even  now 
he  uttered  no  words  of  prayer — he  did  not  even 
pray  without  words — but,  at  least,  for  a  moment 
in  all  his  mind,  if  not  in  his  body,  he  bowed 
down  and  meekly  humbled  himself  to  earth. 
He  remembered  how,  in  his  childhood,  he  had 
always  prayed  in  church  until  he  had  felt,  as  it 
were,  a  cool  touch  on  his  brow  ;  that,  he  used  to 
think  then,  is  the  guardian  angel  receiving  me, 
laying  on  me  the  seal  of  grace.  He  glanced  at 
Lisa.  'You  brought  me  here,'  he  thought, 
'  touch  me,  touch  my  soul.'  She  was  still  pray- 
ing calmly  ;  her  face  seemed  to  him  full  of  joy, 
and  he  was  softened  anew  :  he  prayed  for 
another  soul,  peace ;  for  his  own,  forgiveness. 
190 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

They  met  in  the  porch  ;  she  greeted  him 
with  glad  and  gracious  seriousness.  The  sun 
brightly  lighted  up  the  young  grass  in  the 
church-yard,  and  the  striped  dresses  and  ker- 
chiefs of  the  women  ;  the  bells  of  the  churches 
near  were  tinkling  overhead  ;  and  the  crows 
were  cawing  about  the  hedges.  Lavretsky 
stood  with  uncovered  head,  a  smile  on  his  lips ; 
the  light  breeze  lifted  his  hair,  and  the  ribbons 
of  Lisa's  hat.  He  put  Lisa  and  Lenotchka  who 
was  with  her  into  their  carriage,  divided  all  his 
money  among  the  poor,  and  peacefully  saun- 
tered home. 


191 


XXXII 

Painful  days  followed  for  Fedor  Ivanitch, 
He  found  himself  in  a  continual  fever.  Every 
morning  he  made  for  the  post,  and  tore  open 
letters  and  papers  in  agitation,  and  nowhere 
did  he  find  anything  which  could  confirm  or 
disprove  the  fateful  rumour.  Sometimes  he 
was  disgusting  to  himself  *  What  am  I  about/ 
he  thought,  '  waiting,  like  a  vulture  for  blood, 
for  certain  news  of  my  wife's  death  ? '  He  went 
to  the  Kalitins  every  day,  but  things  had  grown 
no  easier  for  him  there  ;  the  lady  of  the  house 
was  obviously  sulky  with  him,  and  received  him 
very  condescendingly.  Panshin  treated  him 
with  exaggerated  politeness ;  Lemm  had  en- 
trenched himself  in  his  misanthropy  and  hardly 
bowed  to  him,  and,  worst  of  all,  Lisa  seemed  to 
avoid  him.  When  she  happened  to  be  left 
alone  with  him,  instead  of  her  former  candour 
there  was  visible  embarrassment  on  her  part, 
she  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  him,  and  he, 
too,  felt  confused.     In  the  space  of  a  few  days 

IQ2 


A  HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

Lisa  had  become  quite  different  from  what  she 
was  as  he  knew  her  :  in  her  movements,  her 
voice,  her  very  laugh  a  secret  tremor,  an 
unevenness  never  there  before  was  apparent. 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  like  a  true  egoist,  suspected 
nothing  ;  but  Marfa  Timofyevna  began  to  keep 
a  watch  over  her  favourite.  Lavretsky  more 
than  once  reproached  himself  for  having  shown 
Lisa  the  newspaper  he  had  received  ;  he  could 
not  but  be  conscious  that  in  his  spiritual  con- 
dition there  was  something  revolting  to  a  pure 
nature.  He  imagined  also  that  the  change  in 
Lisa  was  the  result  of  her  inward  conflicts,  her 
doubts  as  to  what  answer  to  give  Panshin.  One 
day  she  brought  him  a  book,  a  novel  of  Walter 
Scott's,  which  she  had  herself  asked  him  for. 

*  Have  you  read  it?  '  he  said. 

'  No  ;  I  can't  bring  myself  to  read  just  nov/,' 
she  answered,  and  was  about  to  go  away. 

'  Stop  a  minute,  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  been 
alone  with  you.     You  seem  to  be  afraid  of  me.' 

'  Yes.' 

'  Why  so,  pray  ?  * 

'  I  don't  know.' 

Lavretsky  was  silent. 

*  Tell  me,'  he  began,  '  you  haven't  yet  de- 
cided ? ' 

'What  do  you  mean.-*'  she  said,  not  raising 
her  eyes. 

193  N 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

•  You  understand  me.' 

Lisa  flushed  crimson  all  at  once. 

'  Don't  ask  me  about  anything !  *  she  broke 
out  hotly.  '  I  know  nothing  ;  I  don't  know 
myself.'     And  instantly  she  was  gone. 

The  following  day  Lavretsky  arrived  at  the 
Kalitins'  after  dinner  and  found  there  all  the 
preparations  for  an  evening  service.  In  the 
corner  of  the  dining-room  on  a  square  table 
covered  with  a  clean  cloth  were  already 
arranged,  leaning  up  against  the  wall,  the  small 
holy  pictures,  in  gold  frames,  set  with  tarnished 
jewels..  The  old  servant  in  a  grey  coat  and 
shoes  was  moving  noiselessly  and  without  haste 
all  about  the  room  ;  he  set  two  wax-candles  in 
the  slim  candlesticks  before  the  holy  pictures, 
crossed  himself,  bowed,  and  slowly  went  out. 
The  unlighted  drawing-room  was  empty.  Lav- 
retsky went  into  the  dining-room  and  asked  if 
it  was  some  one's  name-day. 

In  a  whisper  they  told  him  no,  but  that  the 
evening  service  had  been  arranged  at  the  desire 
of  Lisaveta  Mihalovna  and  Marfa  Timofyevna  ; 
that  it  had  been  intended  to  invite  a  wonder- 
working image,  but  that  the  latter  had  gone 
thirty  versts  away  to  visit  a  sick  man.  Soon 
the  priest  arrived  with  the  deacons  ;  he  was  a 
man  no  longer  young,  with  a  large  bald  head  ; 
he  coughed  loudly  in  the  hall  :  the  ladies  at 
194 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

once  filed  slowly  out  of  the  boudoir,  and  went 
up  to  receive  his  blessing  ;  Lavretsky  bowed  to 
them  in  silence  ;  and  in  silence  they  bowed  to 
him.  The  priest  stood  still  for  a  little  while, 
coughed  once  again,  and  asked  in  a  bass  under- 
tone— 

*  You  wish  me  to  begin  ?  ' 

'  Pray  begin,  father,' replied  MaryaDmitrievna. 

He  began  to  put  on  his  robes  ;  a  deacon  in  a 
surplice  asked  obsequiously  for  a  hot  ember ; 
there  was  a  scent  of  incense.  The  maids  and  men- 
servants  came  out  from  the  hall,  and  remained 
huddled  close  together  before  the  door.  Roska, 
who  never  came  down  from  up-stairs,  suddenly 
ran  into  the  dining-room  ;  they  began  to  chase 
her  out ;  she  was  scared,  doubled  back  into  the 
room  and  sat  down  ;  a  footman  picked  her  up 
and  carried  her  away. 

The  evening  service  began.  Lavretsky 
squeezed  himself  into  a  corner ;  his  emotions 
were  strange,  almost  sad  ;  he  could  not  himself 
make  out  clearly  what  he  was  feeling.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  stood  in  front  of  all,  before  the 
chairs ;  she  crossed  herself  with  languid  care- 
lessness, like  a  grand  lady,  and  first  looked 
about  her,  then  suddenly  lifted  her  eyes  to  the 
Ceiling ;  she  was  bored.  Marfa  Timofyevna 
looked  worried ;  Nastasya  Karpovna  bowed 
down  to  the  ground  and  got  up  with  a  kind  of 
I9S 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

discreet,  subdued  rustle  ;  Lisa  remained  stand- 
ing in  her  place  motionless  ;  from  the  concen- 
trated expression  of  her  face  it  could  be  seen 
that  she  was  praying  steadfastly  and  fervently. 
When  she  bowed  to  the  cross  at  the  end  of  the 
service,  she  also  kissed  the  large  red  hand  of 
the  priest.  Marya  Dmitrievna  invited  the  latter 
to  have  some  tea  ;  he  took  off  his  vestment, 
assumed  a  somewhat  more  worldly  air,  and 
passed  into  the  drawing-room  with  the  ladies. 
Conversation — not  too  lively — began.  The 
priest  drank  four  cups  of  tea,  incessantly  wiping 
his  bald  head  with  his  handkerchief;  he  related 
among  other  things  that  the  merchant  Avosh- 
nikov  was  subscribing  seven  hundred  roubles  to 
gilding  the  'cumpo/a  of  the  church,  and  informed 
them  of  a  sure  remedy  against  freckles,  Lav- 
retsky  tried  to  sit  near  Lisa,  but  her  manner 
was  severe,  almost  stern,  and  she  did  not  once 
glance  at  him.  She  appeared  intentionally  not 
to  observe  him  ;  a  kind  of  cold,  grave  enthusiasm 
seemed  to  have  taken  possession  of  her,  Lav- 
retsky  for  some  reason  or  other  tried  to  smile 
and  to  say  something  amusing ;  but  there  was 
perplexity  in  his  heart,  and  he  went  away  at 
last  in  secret  bewilderment.  ,  ,  .  He  felt  there 
was  something  in  Lisa  to  which  he  could  never 
penetrate. 

Another  time  Lavretsky  was  sitting  in  the 
196 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

drawing-room  listening  to  the  sly  but  tedious 
gossip  of  Gedeonovsky,  when  suddenly,  without 
himself  knowing  why,  he  turned  round  and 
caught  a  profound,  attentive  questioning  look 
in  Lisa's  eyes.  ...  It  was  bent  on  him,  this 
enigmatic  look.  Lavretsky  thought  of  it  the 
whole  night  long.  His  love  was  not  like  a 
boy's ;  sighs  and  agonies  were  not  in  his  line, 
and  Lisa  herself  did  not  inspire  a  passion  of  that 
kind  ;  but  for  every  age  love  has  its  tortures — 
and  he  was  spared  none  of  them. 


*97 


XXXIII 

One  day  Lavretsky,  according  to  his  habit,  was 
at  the  Kalitins'.  After  an  exhaustingly  hot 
day,  such  a  lovely  evening  had  set  in  that 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  in  spite  of  her  aversion  to 
a  draught,  ordered  all  the  windows  and  doors 
into  the  garden  to  be  thrown  open,  and  declared 
that  she  would  not  play  cards,  that  it  was  a  sin 
to  play  cards  in  such  weather,  and  one  ought 
to  enjoy  nature.  Panshin  was  the  only  guest 
He  was  stimulated  by  the  beauty  of  the  even- 
ing, and  conscious  of  a  flood  of  artistic  sensa- 
tions, but  he  did  not  care  to  sing  before 
Lavretsky,  so  he  fell  to  reading  poetry  ;  he  read 
aloud  well,  but  too  self-consciously  and  with 
unnecessary  refinements,  a  few  poems  of  Ler- 
montov  (Pushkin  had  not  then  come  into  fashion 
again).  Then  suddenly,  as  though  ashamed  of 
his  enthusiasm,  began,  a  propos  of  the  well- 
known  poem,  'A  Reverie,'  to  attack  and  fall 
foul  of  the  younger  generation.  While  doing 
so  he  did  not  lose  the  opportunity  of  expound- 
iq8 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

ing  how  he  would  change  everything  after  his 
own  fashion,  if  the  power  were  in  his  hands. 
'  Russia/  he  said, '  has  fallen  behind  Europe  ; 
we  must  catch  her  up.  It  is  maintained  that  we 
are  young — that 's  nonsense.  Moreover  we  have 
no  inventiveness  :  Homakov  himself  admits 
that  we  have  not  even  invented  mouse-traps. 
Consequently,  whether  we  will  or  no,  we  must 
borrow  from  others.  We  are  sick,  Lermontov 
says — I  agree  with  him.  But  we  are  sick  from 
having  only  half  become  Europeans,  we  must 
take  a  hair  of  the  dog  that  bit  us  {' /e  cadastre' 
thought  Lavretsky).  *  The  best  heads,  les  ineil- 
leures  tetes'  he  continued,  'among  us  have  long 
been  convinced  of  it.  All  peoples  are  essentially 
alike  ;  only  introduce  among  them  good  insti- 
tutions, and  the  thing  is  done.  Of  course  there 
may  be  adaptation  to  the  existing  national  life  ; 
that  is  our  affair — the  affair  of  the  official  (he 
almost  said  "  governing  ")  class.  But  in  case  of 
need  don't  be  uneasy.  The  institutions  will 
transform  the  life  itself  Marya  Dmitrievna 
most  feelingly  assented  to  all  Panshin  said. 
'  What  a  clever  man,'  she  thought,  '  is  talking 
in  my  drawing-room  ! '  Lisa  sat  in  silence 
leaning  back  against  the  window  ;  Lavretsky 
too  was  silent.  Marfa  Timofyevna,  playing 
cards  with  her  old  friend  in  the  corner,  muttered 
something  to  herself.  Panshin  walked  up  and 
199 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

down  the  room,  and  spoke  eloquently,  but  with 
secret  exasperation.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were 
abusing  not  a  whole  generation  but  a  few  people 
known  to  him.  In  a  great  lilac-bush  in  the 
Kalitins'  garden  a  nightingale  had  built  its  nest; 
its  first  evening  notes  filled  the  pauses  of  the 
eloquent  speech  ;  the  first  stars  were  beginning 
to  shine  in  the  rosy  skj'  over  the  motionless  tops 
of  the  limes.  Lavretsky  got  up  and  began  to 
answer  Panshin  ;  an  argument  sprang  up.  Lav- 
retsky championed  the  youth  and  the  independ- 
ence of  Russia  ;  he  was  ready  to  throw  over 
himself  and  his  generation,  but  he  stood  up  for 
the  new  men,  their  convictions  and  desires.  Pan- 
shin  answered  sharply  and  irritably.  He  main- 
tained that  the  intelligent  people  ought  to  change 
everything,  and  Avas  at  last  even  brought  to  the 
point  of  forgetting  his  position  as  a  kammer- 
уипкеГу  and  his  career  as  an  official,  and  call- 
ing Lavretsky  an  antiquated  conservative,  even 
hinting — very  remotely  it  is  true — at  his  dubious 
position  in  socict}'.  Lavretsky  did  not  lose 
his  temper.  He  did  not  raise  his  voice  (he 
recollected  that  Mihalevitch  too  had  called 
him  antiquated  but  an  antiquated  Voltairean), 
and  calmly  proceeded  to  refute  Panshin  at  all 
points.  He  proved  to  him  the  impracticability 
of  sudden  leaps  and  reforms  from  above, 
Ъunded  neither  on  knowledge  of  the  mother- 

2СЮ 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

country,  nor  on  any  genuine  faith  in  any 
ideal,  even  a  negative  one.  He  brought  for- 
ward his  own  education  as  an  example,  and 
demanded  before  all  things  a  recognition  of  the 
true  spirit  of  the  people  and  submission  to  it, 
without  which  even  a  courageous  combat  against 
error  is  impossible.  Finally  he  admitted  the 
reproach — well-deserved  as  he  thought — of 
reckless  waste  of  time  and  strength. 

'  That  is  all  very  fine  ! '  cried  Panshin  at  last, 
getting  angry.  'You  now  have  just  returned  to 
Russia,  what  do  you  intend  to  do  ? ' 

'  Cultivate  the  soil,'  answered  Lavretsky, '  and 
try  to  cultivate  it  as  well  as  possible.' 

'That  is  very  praiseworthy,  no  doubt,'  re- 
joined Panshin,  *  and  I  have  been  told  that 
you  have  already  had  great  success  in  that  h"ne  ; 
but  you  must  allow  that  not  every  one  is  fit  for 
pursuits  of  that  kind.' 

*  Une  nature  рое tique^  observed  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna,  *  cannot,  to  be  sure,  cultivate  .  .  ,  et 
puis,  it  is  your  vocation,  Vladimir  Nikolaitch, 
to  do  everything  en  grand! 

This  was  too  much  even  for  Panshin  :  he 
grew  confused,  and  changed  the  conversation. 
He  tried  to  turn  it  upon  the  beauty  of  the 
starlit  sky,  the  music  of  Schubert ;  nothing  was 
successful.  He  ended  by  proposing  to  Marya 
Dmitrievna  a  game  of  picqueL  '  What !  on 
201 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

such  an  evening  ? '  she  reph'ed  feebly.  She 
ordered  the  cards  to  be  brought  in,  however. 
Panshin  tore  open  a  new  pack  of  cards  with 
a  loud  crash,  and  Lisa  and  Lavretsky  both  got 
up  as  if  by  agreement,  and  went  and  placed 
themselves  near  Marfa  Timofyevna.  They  both 
felt  all  at  once  so  happy  that  they  were  even  a 
little  afraid  of  remaining  alone  together,  and 
at  the  same  time  they  both  felt  that  the  em- 
barrassment they  had  been  conscious  of  for  the 
last  few  days  had  vanished,  and  would  return 
no  more.  The  old  lady  stealthily  patted  Lav- 
retsky on  the  cheek,  slyly  screwed  up  her 
eyes,  and  shook  her  head  once  or  twice,  adding 
in  a  whisper,  'You  have  shut  up  our  clever 
friend,  many  thanks.'  Everything  was  hushed 
in  the  room  ;  the  only  sound  was  the  faint 
crackling  of  the  wax-candles,  and  sometimes 
the  tap  of  a  hand  on  the  table,  and  an  ex- 
clamation or  reckoning  of  points  ;  and  the  rich 
torrent  of  the  nightingale's  song,  powerful 
piercingly  sweet,  poured  in  at  the  window,  to 
gether  with  the  dewy  freshness  of  the  night 


XXXIV 

Lisa  had  not  uttered  one  word  in  the  course  of 
the  dispute  between  Lavretsky  and  Panshin, 
but  she  had  followed  it  attentively  and  was 
completely  on  Lavretsky's  side.  Politics  in- 
terested her  very  little  ;  but  the  supercilious 
tone  of  the  worldly  official  (he  had  never 
delivered  himself  in  that  way  before)  repelled 
her  ;  his  contempt  for  Russia  wounded  her.  It 
had  never  occurred  to  Lisa  that  she  was  a  patriot; 
but  her  heart  was  with  the  Russian  people  ;  the 
Russian  turn  of  mind  delighted  her  ;  she  would 
talk  for  hours  together  without  ceremony  to  the 
peasant-overseer  of  her  mother's  property  when 
he  came  to  the  town,  and  she  talked  to  him  as 
to  an  equal,  without  any  of  the  condescension 
of  a  superior.  Lavretsky  felt  all  this  ;  he  would 
not  have  troubled  himself  to  answer  Panshin  by 
himself ;  he  had  spoken  only  for  Lisa's  sake. 
They  had  said  nothing  to  one  another,  their 
eyes  even  had  seldom  met.  But  they  both 
knew  that  they  had  grown  closer  that  evening, 
203 


A    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

they  knew  that  they  liked  and  dishked  the  same 
things.  On  one  point  only  were  they  divided  ; 
but  Lisa  secretly  hoped  to  bring  him  to  God. 
They  sat  near  Marfa  Timofyevna,  and  appeared 
to  be  following  her  play  ;  indeed,  they  were 
really  following  it,  but  meanwhile  their  hearts 
were  full,  and  nothing  was  lost  on  them  ;  for 
them  the  nightingale  sang,  and  the  stars  shone, 
and  the  trees  gently  murmured,  lulled  to  sleep 
by  the  summer  warmth  and  softness.  Lavretsky 
was  completely  carried  away,  and  surrendered 
himself  wholly  to  his  passion — and  rejoiced  in 
it.  But  no  word  can  express  what  was  passing 
in  the  pure  heart  of  the  young  girl.  It  was  a 
mystery  for  herself.  Let  it  remain  a  mystery 
for  all.  No  one  knows,  no  one  has  seen, 
nor  will  ever  see,  how  the  grain,  destined  to 
life  and  growth,  swells  and  ripens  in  the  bosom 
of  the  earth. 

Ten  o'clock  struck.  Marfa  Timofyevna  went 
off  up-stairs  to  her  own  apartments  with  Nastasya 
Karpovna.  Lavretsky  and  Lisa  walked  across 
the  room,  stopped  at  the  open  door  into  the 
garden,  looked  into  the  darkness  in  the  distance 
and  then  at  one  another,  and  smiled.  They 
could  have  taken  each  other's  hands,  it  seemed, 
and  talked  to  their  hearts'  content.  They 
returned  to  Marya  Dmitrievna  and  Panshin, 
where  a  game  of  picquet  was  still  dragging  on. 
204 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

The  last  king  was  called  at  last,  and  the  lady  of 
the  house  rose,  sighing  and  groaning  from  her 
well-cushioned  easy-chair.  Panshin  took  his 
hat,  kissed  Marya  Dmitrievna's  hand,  remarking 
that  nothing  hindered  some  happy  people  now 
from  sleeping,  but  that  he  had  to  sit  up  over 
stupid  papers  till  morning,  and  departed,  bow- 
ing coldly  to  Lisa  (he  had  not  expected  that 
she  would  ask  him  to  wait  so  long  for  an  answer 
to  his  offer,  and  he  was  cross  with  her  for  it).  Lav- 
retsky  followed  him.  They  parted  at  the  gate. 
Panshin  waked  his  coachman  by  poking  him  in 
the  neck  with  the  end  of  his  stick,  took  his  seat 
in  the  carriage  and  rolled  away.  Lavretsky  did 
not  want  to  go  home.  He  walked  away  from 
the  town  into  the  open  country.  The  night 
was  still  and  clear,  though  there  was  no  moon. 
Lavretsky  rambled  a  long  time  over  the  dewy 
grass.  He  came  across  a  little  narrow  path  ; 
and  went  along  it.  It  led  him  up  to  a  long  fence, 
and  to  a  little  gate  ;  he  tried,  not  knowing  why, 
to  push  it  open.  With  a  faint  creak  the  gate 
opened,  as  though  it  had  been  awaiting  the 
touch  of  his  hand.  Lavretsky  went  into  the 
garden.  After  a  few  paces  along  a  walk  of 
lime-trees  he  stopped  short  in  amazement ;  he 
recognised  the  Kalitins'  garden. 

He  moved  at  once  into  a  black  patch  of  shade 
thrown  by  a  thick  clump  of  hazels,  and  stood  a 
205 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

long  while  without  moving,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  in  astonishment. 

'  This  cannot  be  for  nothing,'  he  thought. 

All  was  hushed  around.  From  the  direction 
of  the  house  not  a  sound  reached  him.  He 
went  cautiously  forward.  At  the  bend  of  an 
avenue  suddenly  the  whole  house  confronted 
him  with  its  dark  face  ;  in  two  upstair-windows 
only  a  light  was  shining.  In  Lisa's  room  behind 
the  white  curtain  a  candle  was  burning,  and  in 
Marfa  Timofyevna's  bedroom  a  lamp  shone 
with  red-fire  before  the  holy  picture,  and  was 
reflected  with  equal  brilliance  on  the  gold  frame. 
Below,  the  door  on  to  the  balcony  gaped  wide 
open.  Lavretsky  sat  down  on  a  wooden  garden- 
seat,  leaned  on  his  elbows,  and  began  to  watch 
this  door  and  Lisa's  window.  In  the  town  it 
struck  midnight ;  a  little  clock  in  the  house 
shrilly  clanged  out  twelve  ;  the  watchman  beat 
it  with  jerky  strokes  upon  his  board.  Lavretsky 
had  no  thought,  no  expectation  ;  it  was  sweet 
to  him  to  feel  himself  near  Lisa,  to  sit  in  her 
garden  on  the  seat  where  she  herself  had  sat 
more  than  once. 

The  light  in  Lisa's  room  vanished. 

*  Sleep  well,  my  sweet  girl,'  whispered  Lav- 
retsky, still  sitting  motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  darkened  window. 

Suddenly  the  light  appeared  in  one  of  the 
206 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

windows  of  the  ground-floor,  then  changed  into 
another,  and  a  third.  .  .  ,  Some  one  was  walking 
through  the  rooms  with  a  candle.  '  Can  it  be 
Lisa  ?  It  cannot  be.'  Lavretsky  got  up.  .  .  . 
He  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  well-known  face — 
Lisa  came  into  the  drawing-room.  In  a  white 
gown,  her  plaits  hanging  loose  on  her  shoulders, 
she  went  quietly  up  to  the  table,  bent  over  it, 
put  down  the  candle,  and  began  looking  for 
something.  Then  turning  round  facing  the 
garden,  she  drew  near  the  open  door,  and  stood 
on  the  threshold,  a  light  slender  figure  all  in 
white.     A  shiver  passed  over  Lavretsky. 

'  Lisa  ! '  broke  hardly  audibly  from  his  lips. 

She  started  and  began  to  gaze  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

'  Lisa ! '  Lavretsky  repeated  louder,  and  he 
came  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  avenue. 

Lisa  raised  her  head  in  alarm,  and  shrank 
back.  She  had  recognised  him.  He  called  to 
her  a  third  time,  and  stretched  out  his  hands 
to  her.  She  came  away  from  the  door  and 
stepped  into  the  garden. 

'  Is  it  you  ? '  she  said.     *  You  here  ? ' 

'  I — I — listen  to  me,'  whispered  Lavretsky, 
and  seizing  her  hand  he  led  her  to  the  seat. 

She  followed  him  without  resistance,  her 
pale  face,  her  fixed  eyes,  and  all  her  gestures 
expressed  an  unutterable  bewilderment.  La- 
207 


A  HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

vretsky  made  her  sit  down  and  stood  before 
her, 

'  I  did  not  mean  to  come  here/  he  began. 
'  Something  brought  me.  .  .  .  I — I  love  you/ 
he  uttered  in  involuntary  terror, 

Lisa  slowly  looked  at  him.  It  seemed  as 
though  she  only  at  that  instant  knew  where  she 
was  and  what  was  happening.  She  tried  to  get 
up,  she  could  not,  and  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

*  Lisa,'  murmured  Lavretsky,  *  Lisa/  he  re- 
peated, and  fell  at  her  feet. 

Her  shoulders  began  to  heave  slightly  ;  the 
fingers  of  her  pale  hands  were  pressed  more 
closely  to  her  face. 

'  What  is  it  ? '  Lavretsky  urged,  and  he  heard 
a  subdued  sob.  His  heart  stood  still,  .  .  .  He 
knew  the  meaning  of  those  tears,  '  Can  it  be 
that  you  love  me  ? '  he  whispered,  and  caressed 
her  knees, 

*  Get  up,'  he  heard  her  voice,  '  get  up,  Fedor 
Ivan  itch.     What  are  we  doing  ? ' 

He  got  up  and  sat  beside  her  on  the  seat. 
She  was  not  weeping  now,  and  she  looked  at 
him  steadfastly  with  her  wet  eyes. 

*  It  frightens  me :  what  are  we  doing  ? '  she 
repeated. 

*  I  love  you,'  he  said  again.  '  I  am  ready  to 
devote  my  whole  life  to  you.' 

208 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

She  shuddered  again,  as  though  something 
had  stung  her,  and  lifted  her  eyes  towards 
heaven. 

'  All  that  is  in  God's  hands,'  she  said. 

*  But  you  love  me,  Lisa  ?  We  shall  be  happy.' 
She  dropped  her  eyes  ;  he  softly  drew  her  to 
him,  and  her  head  sank  on  to  his  shoulder.  .  .  . 
He  bent  his  head  a  little  and  touched  her  pale 
lips. 

Half  an  hour  later  Lavretsky  was  standing 
before  the  little  garden  gate.  He  found  it 
locked  and  was  obliged  to  get  over  the 
fence.  He  returned  to  the  town  and  walked 
along  the  slumbering  streets.  A  sense  of 
immense,  unhoped-for  happiness  filled  his  soul; 
all  his  doubts  had  died  away.  '  Away,  dark 
phantom  of  the  past/  he  thought.  '  She  loves 
me,  she  will  be  mine.'  Suddenly  it  seemed  to 
him  that  in  the  air  over  his  head  were  floating 
strains  of  divine  triumphant  music.  He  stood 
still.  The  music  resounded  in  still  greater 
magnificence  ;  a  mighty  flood  of  melody — and 
all  his  bliss  seemed  speaking  and  singing  in  its 
strains.  He  looked  about  him ;  the  music 
floated  down  from  two  upper  windows  of  a 
small  house. 

'  Lemm  ? '  cried  Lavretsky  as  he  ran  to  the 
house.     '  Lemm  !  Lemm  ! '  he  repeated  aloud. 
209  о 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

The  sounds  died  away  and  the  figure  of  the  old 
raan  in  a  dressing-gown,  with  his  throat  bare  and 
his  hair  dishevelled,  appeared  at  tlie  window. 

*  Aha  ! '  he  said  with  dignity,  '  is  it  you  ? ' 

'  Christopher  Fedoritch,  what  marvellous 
music  !  for  mercy's  sake,  let  me  in.* 

Without  uttering  a  word,  the  old  man  with 
a  majestic  flourish  of  the  arm  dropped  the  key 
of  the  street  door  from  the  window. 

Lavretsky  hastened  up-stairs,  went  into  the 
room  and  was  about  to  rush  up  to  Lemm  ;  but 
the  latter  imperiously  motioned  him  to  a  seat, 
saying  abruptly  in  Russian,  *Sit  down  and 
listen,'  sat  down  himself  to  the  piano,  and 
looking  proudly  and  severely  about  him,  he 
began  to  play.  It  was  long  since  Lavretsky 
had  listened  to  anything  like  it.  The  sweet 
passionate  melody  went  to  his  heart  from  the 
first  note  ;  it  was  glowing  and  languishing  with 
inspiration,  happiness  and  beauty;  it  swelled 
and  melted  away ;  it  touched  on  all  that  is 
precious,  mysterious,  and  lioly  on  earth.  It 
breathed  of  deathless  sorrow  and  mounted  dying 
away  to  the  heavens.  Lavretsky  drew  himself 
up,  and  rose  cold  and  pale  with  ecstasy.  This 
music  seemed  to  clutch  his  very  soul,  so  lately 
shaken  by  the  rapture  of  love,  the  music  was 
glowing  with  love  too.  *  Again  ! '  he  whispered 
as  the  last  chord  sounded.     The  old  man  threw 

210 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

him  an  eagle  glance,  struck  his  hand  on  his 
chest  and  saying  deliberately  in  his  own 
tongue,  '  This  is  my  work,  I  am  a  great  mu- 
sician,' he  played  again  his  marvellous  com- 
position. There  was  no  candle  in  the  room  ; 
the  light  of  the  rising  moon  fell  aslant  on  the 
window ;  the  soft  air  was  vibrating  with 
sound  ;  the  poor  little  room  seemed  a  holy 
place,  and  the  old  man's  head  stood  out  noble 
and  inspired  in  the  silvery  half  light.  Lavret- 
sky  went  up  to  him  and  embraced  him.  At 
first  Lemm  did  not  respond  to  his  embrace, 
and  even  pushed  him  away  with  his  elbow. 
For  a  long  while  without  moving  in  any  limb 
he  kept  the  same  severe,  almost  morose  expres- 
sion, and  only  growled  out  twice,  'aha.'  At 
last  his  face  relaxed,  changed,  and  grew  calmer, 
and  in  response  to  Lavretsky's  warm  congratu- 
lations he  smiled  a  little  at  first,  then  burst  into 
tears,  and  sobbed  weakly  like  a  child. 

'  It  is  wonderful,'  he  said,  '  that  you  have  come 
just  at  this  moment;  but  I  know  all,  I  know  all. 

'  You    know   all  ? '    Lavretsky    repeated    in 
amazement. 

'You  have  heard   me,'  replied   Lemm,   'did 
you  not  understand  that  I  knew  all  ? ' 

Till  daybreak    Lavretsky  could    not   sleep 
all  night  he  was  sitting  on  his  bed.     And  Lisa 
too  did  not  sleep  ;  she  was  praying. 

211 


XXXV 

The  reader  knows  how  Lavretsky  grew  up  and 
developed.  Let  us  say  a  few  words  about 
Lisa's  education.  She  was  in  her  tenth  year 
when  her  father  died  ;  but  he  had  not  troubled 
himself  much  about  her.  Weighed  down  with 
business  cares,  for  ever  anxious  for  the  increase 
of  his  property,  bilious,  sharp  and  impatient, 
he  gave  money  unsparingly  for  the  teachers, 
tutors,  dress  and  other  necessities  of  his  chil- 
dren ;  but  he  could  not  endure,  as  he  expressed 
it,  'to  be  dandling  his  squallers,'  and  indeed  he 
had  no  time  to  dandle  them.  He  worked,  took 
no  rest  from  business,  slept  little,  rarely  played 
cards,  and  worked  again.  He  compared  him- 
self to  a  horse  harnessed  to  a  threshing- 
machine.  '  My  life  has  soon  come  to  an  end,' 
was  his  comment  on  his  death-bed,  with  a 
bitter  smile  on  his  parched  lips.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  did  not  in  reality  trouble  herself 
about  Lisa  any  more  than  her  husband,  though 
she  had  boasted  to  Lavretsky  that  she  alone 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

had  educated  her  children.  She  dressed  her 
up  like  a  doll,  stroked  her  on  the  head  before 
visitors  and  called  her  a  clever  child  and  a 
darling  to  her  face,  and  that  was  all.  Any 
kind  of  continuous  care  was  too  exhausting  for 
the  indolent  lady.  During  her  father's  lifetime, 
Lisa  was  in  the  hands  of  a  governess,  Mademoi- 
selle Moreau  from  Paris  ;  after  his  death  she 
passed  into  the  charge  of  ]\Iarfa  Timofyevna. 
Marfa  Timofyevna  the  reader  knows  already ; 
Mademoiselle  Moreau  was  a  tiny  wrinkled 
creature  with  little  bird-like  ways  and  a  bird's 
intellect.  In  her  youth  she  had  led  a  very 
dissipated  life,  but  in  old  age  she  had  only  two 
passions  left — gluttony  and  cards.  When  she 
had  eaten  her  fill,  and  was  neither  playing  cards 
nor  chattering,  her  face  assumed  an  expression 
almost  death-like.  She  was  sitting,  looking, 
breathing — yet  it  was  clear  that  there  was  not 
an  idea  in  her  head.  One  could  not  even  call 
her  good-natured.  Birds  are  not  good-natured. 
Either  as  a  result  of  her  frivolous  youth  or  of 
the  air  of  Paris,  which  she  had  breathed  from 
childhood,  a  kind  of  cheap  universal  scepticism 
had  found  its  way  into  her,  usually  expressed 
by  the  words  :  tout  ^a  dest  des  betises.  She  spoke 
ungrammatically,  but  in  a  pure  Parisian  jargon, 
did  not  talk  scandal  and  had  no  caprices — 
what  more  can  one  desire  in  a  governess? 
213 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Over  Lisa  she  had  h'ttle  influence ;  all  the 
stronger  was  the  influence  on  her  of  her  nurse, 
Agafya  Vlasyevna. 

This  woman's  story  was  remarkable.  She 
came  of  a  peasant  family.  She  was  married  at 
sixteen  to  a  peasant;  but  she  was  strikingly 
different  from  her  peasant  sisters.  Her  father 
had  been  twenty  years  starosta,  and  had  made 
a  good  deal  of  money,  and  he  spoiled  her.  She 
was  exceptionally  beautiful,  the  best-dressed 
girl  in  the  whole  district,  clever,  ready  with  her 
tongue,  and  daring.  Her  master  Dmitri  Pes- 
tov,  Marya  Dmitrievna's  father,  a  man  of  mo- 
dest and  gentle  character,  saw  her  one  day  at 
the  threshing-floor,  talked  to  her  and  fell  pas- 
sionately in  love  with  her.  She  was  soon  left 
a  widow  ;  Pestov,  though  he  was  a  married  man, 
took  her  into  his  house  and  dressed  her  like  a 
lady.  Agafya  at  once  adapted  herself  to  her 
new  position,  j'ust  as  if  she  had  never  lived  differ- 
ently all  her  life.  She  grew  fairer  and  plumper  ; 
her  arms  grew  as  '  floury  white '  under  her 
muslin-sleeves  as  a  merchant's  lady's ;  the 
samovar  never  left  her  table  ;  she  would  wear 
nothing  except  silk  or  velvet,  and  slept  on 
well-stuffed  feaiher-beds.  This  blissful  exist- 
ence lasted  for  five  years,  but  Dmitri  Pestov 
died  ;  his  widow,  a  kind-hearted  woman,  out  of 
regard  for  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  did  not 
214 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

wish  to  treat  her  rival  unfairly,  all  the  more 
because  Agafya  had  never  forgotten  herself  in 
her  presence.  She  married  her,  however,  to  a 
shepherd,  and  sent  her  a  long  way  off.  Three 
years  passed.  It  happened  one  hot  summer 
day  that  her  mistress  in  driving  past  stopped 
at  the  cattle-yard,  Agafya  regaled  her  with 
such  delicious  cool  cream,  behaved  so  modestly, 
and  was  so  neat,  so  bright,  and  so  contented 
with  everything  that  her  mistress  signified  her 
forgiveness  to  her  and  allowed  her  to  return  to 
the  house.  Within  six  months  she  had  become 
so  much  attached  to  her  that  she  raised  her  to 
be  housekeeper,  and  intrusted  the  whole  house- 
hold management  to  her.  Agafya  again  returned 
to  power,  and  again  grew  plump  and  fair  ;  her 
mistress  put  the  most  complete  confidence  in 
her.  So  passed  five  years  more.  Misfortune 
again  overtook  Agafya.  Her  husband,  whom 
she  had  promoted  to  be  a  footman,  began  to 
drink,  took  to  vanishing  from  the  house,  and 
ended  by  stealing  six  of  the  mistress'  silver 
spoons  and  hiding  them  till  a  favourable 
moment  i-n  his  wife's  box.  It  was  opened. 
He  was  sent  to  be  a  shepherd  again,  and 
Agafya  fell  into  disgrace.  She  was  not  turned 
out  of  the  house,  but  was  degraded  from  house- 
keeper to  being  a  sewing-woman  and  was 
ordered  to  wear  a  kerchief  on  her  head  instead 

215 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

of  a  cap.  To  the  astonishment  of  every  one, 
Agafya  accepted  with  humble  resignation  the 
blow  that  had  fallen  upon  her.  She  was  at  that 
time  about  thirty,  all  her  children  were  dead 
and  her  husband  did  not  live  much  longer.  The 
time  had  come  for  her  to  reflect.  And  she  did  re- 
flect. She  became  very  silent  and  devout,  never 
missed  a  single  matin's  service  nor  a  single  mass, 
and  gave  away  all  her  fine  clothes.  She  spent 
fifteen  years  quietly,  peacefully,  and  soberly, 
never  quarrelling  with  any  one  and  giving  way 
to  every  one.  If  any  one  scolded  her,  she  only 
bowed  to  them  and  thanked  them  for  the 
admonition.  Her  mistress  had  long  ago  for- 
given her,  raised  her  out  of  disgrace,  and  had 
made  her  a  present  of  a  cap  of  her  own.  But 
she  was  herself  unwilling  to  give  up  the  ker- 
chief and  always  wore  a  dark  dress.  After  her 
mistress'  death  she  became  still  more  quiet  and 
humble.  A  Russian  readily  feels  fear,  and 
affection  ;  but  it  is  hard  to  gain  his  respect :  it 
is  not  soon  given,  nor  to  every  one.  For  Agafya 
every  one  in  the  house  had  great  respect ;  no  one 
even  remembered  her  previous  sins,  as  though 
they  had  been  buried  with  the  old  master. 

When    Kalitin   became  Marya  Dmitrievna's 

husband,  he  wanted  to  intrust  the  care  of  the 

house  to  Agafya.     But  she  refused  '  on  account 

of  temptation ; '  he  scolded  her,  but  she  bowed 

216 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

humbly  and  left  the  room.  Kalitin  was  clever 
in  understanding  men  ;  he  understood  Agafya 
and  did  not  forget  her.  When  he  moved  to  the 
town,  he  gave  her,  with  her  consent,  the  place 
of  nurse  to  Lisa,  who  was  only  just  five  years 
old. 

Lisa  was  at  first  frightened  by  the  austere 
and  serious  face  of  her  new  nurse  ;  but  she  soon 
grew  used  to  her  and  began  to  love  her.  She 
was  herself  a  serious  child.  Her  features  re- 
called Kalitin's  decided  and  regular  profile,  only 
her  eyes  were  not  her  father's ;  they  were 
lighted  up  by  a  gentle  attentiveness  and  good- 
ness, rare  in  children.  She  did  not  care  to  play 
with  dolls,  never  laughed  loudly  or  for  long,  and 
behaved  with  great  decorum.  She  was  not 
often  thoughtful,  but  when  she  was,  it  was 
almost  always  with  some  reason.  After  a  short 
silence,  she  usually  turned  to  some  grown-up 
person  with  a  question  which  showed  that  her 
brain  had  been  at  work  upon  some  new  im- 
pression. She  very  early  got  over  childish  lisp- 
ings,  and  by  the  time  she  was  four  years  old 
spoke  perfectly  plainly.  She  was  afraid  of  her 
father ;  her  feeling  towards  her  mother  was  un- 
definable,  she  was  not  afraid  of  her,  nor  was  she 
demonstrative  to  her  ;  but  she  was  not  demon- 
strative even  towards  Agafya,  though  she 
was  the  only  person  she  loved.  Agafya 
217 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

nev-er  left  her.  It  was  curious  to  see  them 
together.  Agafya,  all  in  black,  with  a  dark 
handkerchief  on  her  head,  her  face  thin  and 
transparent  as  wax,  but  still  beautiful  and  ex- 
pressive, would  be  sitting  upright,  knitting  a 
stocking ;  Lisa  would  sit  at  her  feet  in  a  little 
arm-chair,  also  busied  over  some  kind  of  work, 
and  seriously  raising  her  clear  eyes,  listening  to 
what  Agafya  was  relating  to  her.  And  Agafya 
did  not  tell  her  stories  ;  but  in  even  measured 
accents  she  would  narrate  the  life  of  the  Holy 
Virgin,  the  lives  of  hermits,  saints,  and  holy 
men.  She  would  tell  Lisa  how  the  holy  men 
lived  in  deserts,  how  they  were  saved,  how  they 
suffered  hunger  and  want,  and  did  not  fear 
kings,  but  confessed  Christ ;  how  fowls  of  the 
air  brought  them  food  and  wild  beasts  listened 
to  them,  and  flowers  sprang  up  on  the  spots 
where  their  blood  had  been  spilt.  'Wall- 
flowers ? '  asked  Lisa  one  day,  she  was  very 
fond  of  flowers.  .  .  .  Agafya  spoke  to  Lisa 
gravely  and  meekly,  as  though  she  felt  herself 
to  be  unworthy  to  utter  such  high  and  holy 
words.  Lisa  listened  to  her,  and  the  image  of 
the  all-seeing,  all-knowing  God  penetrated  with 
a  kind  of  sweet  power  into  her  very  soul,  filling 
it  with  pure  and  reverent  awe  ;  but  Christ  be- 
came for  her  something  near,  well-known, 
almost  familiar.  Agafya  taught  her  to  pray 
218 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

also.  Sometimes  she  wakened  Lisa  early  at 
daybreak,  dressed  her  hurriedly,  and  took  her 
in  secret  to  matins.  Lisa  followed  her  on  tip- 
toe, almost  holding  her  breath.  The  cold  and 
twilight  of  the  early  morning,  the  freshness  and 
emptiness  of  the  church,  the  very  secrecy  of 
these  unexpected  expeditions,  the  cautious  re- 
turn home  and  to  her  little  bed,  all  these  mingled 
impressions  of  the  forbidden,  strange,  and  holy 
agitated  the  little  girl  and  penetrated  to  the 
very  innermost  depths  of  her  nature.  Agafya 
never  censured  any  one,  and  never  scolded  Lisa 
for  being  naughty.  When  she  was  displeased 
at  anything,  she  only  kept  silence.  And  Lisa 
understood  this  silence  ;  with  a  child's  quick- 
sightedness  she  knew  very  well,  too,  when 
Agafya  was  displeased  with  other  people, 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  or  Kalitin  himself.  For 
a  little  over  three  years  Agafya  waited  on  Lisa, 
then  Mademoiselle  Moreau  replaced  her  ;  but 
the  frivolous  Frenchwoman,  with  her  cold  ways 
and  exclamation,  tout  qa  с  est  des  betises,  could 
never  dislodge  her  dear  nurse  from  Lisa's  heart ; 
the  seeds  that  had  been  dropped  into  it  had 
become  too  deeply  rooted.  Besides,  though 
Agafya  no  longer  waited  on  Lisa,  she  was  still 
in  the  house  and  often  saw  her  charge,  who  be- 
lieved in  her  as  before. 

Agafya  did  not,  however,  get  on  well  with 
219 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Marfa  Timofyevna,  when  she  came  to  live  in 
the  Kalitins'  house.  Such  gravity  and  dignity 
on  the  part  of  one  who  had  once  worn  the  motley 
skirt  of  a  peasant  wench  displeased  the  im- 
patient and  self-willed  old  lady.  Agafya  asked 
leave  to  go  on  a  pilgrimage  and  she  never  came 
back.  There  were  dark  rumours  that  she  had 
gone  off  to  a  retreat  of  sectaries.  But  the  im- 
pression she  had  left  in  Lisa's  soul  was  never 
obliterated.  She  went  as  before  to  the  mass  as 
to  a  festival,  she  prayed  with  rapture,  with  a 
kind  of  restrained  and  shamefaced  transport,  at 
which  Marya  Dmitrievna  secretly  marvelled  not 
a  little,  and  even  Marfa  Timofyevna,  though 
she  did  not  restrain  Lisa  in  any  way,  tried  to 
temper  her  zeal,  and  would  not  let  her  make  too 
many  prostrations  to  the  earth  in  her  prayers  ; 
it  was  not  a  lady-like  habit,  she  would  say.  In 
her  studies  Lisa  worked  well,  that  is  to  say 
perseveringly  ;  she  was  not  gifted  with  specially 
brilliant  abilities,  or  great  intellect  ;  she  could 
not  succeed  in  anything  without  labour.  She 
played  the  piano  well,  but  only  Lemm  knew 
what  it  had  cost  her.  She  had  read  little  ;  she 
had  not  '  words  of  her  own,'  but  she  had  her 
own  ideas,  and  she  went  her  own  way.  It  was 
not  only  on  the  surface  that  she  took  after  her 
father  ;  he,  too,  had  never  asked  other  people 
what  was  to  be  done.  So  she  had  grown  up 
220 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

tranquilly  and  restfully  till  she  had  reached  the 
age  of  nineteen.  She  was  very  charming-,  with- 
out being  aware  of  it  herself.  Her  every  move- 
ment was  full  of  spontaneous,  somewhat  awk- 
ward gracefulness  ;  her  voice  had  the  silvery 
ring  of  untouched  youth,  the  least  feeling  of 
pleasure  called  forth  an  enchanting  smile  on  her 
lips,  and  added  a  deep  light  and  a  kind  of 
mystic  sweetness  to  her  kindling  eyes.  Pene- 
trated through  and  through  by  a  sense  of  duty, 
by  the  dread  of  hurting  any  one  whatever,  with 
a  kind  and  tender  heart,  she  had  loved  all  men, 
and  no  one  in  particular  ;  God  only  she  had 
loved  passionately,  timidly,  and  tenderly.  Lav- 
retsky  was  the  first  to  break  in  upon  her  peace- 
ful inner  life. 
Such  was  Lisa. 


XXXVI 

On  the  following  day  at  twelve  o'clock,  Lav- 
retsky  set  off  to  the  Kalitins.  On  the  way  he 
met  Panshin,  who  galloped  past  him  on  horse- 
back, his  hat  pulled  down  to  his  very  eyebrows. 
At  the  Kalitins',  Lavretsky  was  not  admitted 
for  the  first  time  since  he  had  been  acquainted 
with  them.  Marya  Dmitrievna  was  '  resting/  so 
the  footman  informed  him  ;  her  excellency  had 
a  headache.  Marfa  Timofyevna  and  Lisaveta 
Mihalovna  were  not  at  home.  Lavretsky 
walked  round  the  garden  in  the  faint  hope  of 
meeting  Lisa,  but  he  saw  no  one.  He  came 
back  two  hours  later  and  received  the  same 
answer,  accompanied  by  a  rather  dubious  look 
from  the  footman.  Lavretsky  thought  it  would 
be  unseemly  to  call  for  a  third  time  the  same 
day,  and  he  decided  to  drive  over  to  Vassil- 
yevskoe,  where  he  had  business  moreover.  On 
the  road  he  made  various  plans  for  the  future, 
each  better  than  the  last  ;  but  he  was  overtaken 
by  a  melancholy  mood  when  he  reached  his 
aunt's  little  village.      He  fell  into  conversation 

222 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

with  Anton ;  the  old  man,  as  if  purposely, 
seemed  full  of  cheerless  fancies.  He  told  Lav- 
retsky  how,  at  her  death,  Glafira  Petrovna  had 
bitten  her  own  arm,  and  after  a  brief  pause, 
added  with  a  sigh :  *  Every  man,  dear  master, 
is  destined  to  devour  himself.'  It  was  late 
when  Lavrctsky  set  off  on  the  way  back.  He 
was  haunted  by  the  music  of  the  day  before, 
and  Lisa's  image  returned  to  him  in  all  its  sweet 
distinctness  ;  he  mused  with  melting  tender- 
ness over  the  thought  that  she  loved  him,  and 
reached  his  little  house  in  the  town,  soothed 
and  happy. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  him  as  he  went 
into  the  entrance  hall  was  a  scent  of  patchouli, 
always  distasteful  to  him ;  there  were  some 
high  travelling-trunks  standing  there.  The  face 
of  his  groom,  who  ran  out  to  meet  him,  seemed 
strange  to  him.  Not  stopping  to  analyse  his 
impressions,  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
drawing-room.  .  .  .  On  his  entrance  there  rose 
from  the  sofa  a  lady  in  a  black  silk  dress  with 
flounces,  who,  raising  a  cambric  handkerchief  to 
her  pale  face,  made  a  few  paces  forward,  bent 
her  carefully  dressed,  perfumed  head,  and  fell  at 
his  feet.  .  .  .  Then,  only,  he  recognised  her  : 
this  lady  was  his  wife ! 

He  caught  his  breath.  .  .  .  He  leaned  agairfst 
the  wall. 

223 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  TJiJodore,  do  not  repulse  me ! '  she  said  in 
French,  and  her  voice  cut  to  his  heart  like  a 
knife. 

He  looked  at  her  senselessly,  and  yet  he 
noticed  involuntarily  at  once  that  she  had  grown 
both  whiter  and  fatter. 

'  Theodore ! '  she  went  on,  from  time  to  time 
lifting  her  eyes  and  discreetly  wringing  her 
marvellously-beautiful  fingers  with  their  rosy, 
polished  nails.  *  Theodore,  I  have  wronged  you, 
deeply  wronged  you  ;  I  will  say  more,  I  have 
sinned  ;  but  hear  me  ;  I  am  tortured  by  remorse, 
I  have  grown  hateful  to  myself,  I  could  endure 
my  position  no  longer  ;  how  many  times  have  I 
thought  of  turning  to  you,  but  I  feared  your 
anger  ;  I  resolved  to  break  every  tie  with  the 
past.  .  .  .  Puis,  fai  ete  si  malade.  ...  I  have 
been  so  ill,'  she  added,  and  passed  her  hand 
over  her  brow  and  cheek.  '  I  took  advantage  of 
the  widely-spread  rumour  of  my  death,  I  gave 
up  everything  ;  without  resting  day  or  night  I 
hastened  hither  ;  I  hesitated  long  to  appear 
before  you,  my  judge  .  .  .  parattre  devant  vous, 
топ  j'uge  ;  but  I  resolved  at  last,  remembering 
your  constant  goodness,  to  come  to  you  ;  I 
found  your  address  at  Moscow.  Believe  me,' 
she  went  on,  slowly  getting  up  from  the  floor 
and  sitting  on  the  very  edge  of  an  arm-chair,  '  I 
have  olten  thought  of  death,  and  I  should  have 
224 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

found  courage  enough  to  take  my  life  ...  ah ! 
life  is  a  burden  unbearable  for  me  now !  .  .  . 
but  the  thought  of  my  daughter,  my  little  Ada, 
stopped  me.  She  is  here,  she  is  asleep  in  the 
next  room,  the  poor  child  !  She  is  tired — you 
shall  see  her  ;  she  at  least  has  done  you  no 
wrong,  and  I  am  so  unhappy,  so  unhappy ! ' 
cried  Madame  Lavretsky,  and  she  melted  into 
tears. 

Lavretsky  came  to  himself  at  last ;  he  moved 
away  from  the  wall  and  turned  towards  the 
door. 

'  You  are  going  ? '  cried  his  wife  in  a  voice  of 
despair.  '  Oh,  this  is  cruel !  Without  uttering 
one  word  to  me,  not  even  a  reproach.  This 
contempt  will  kill  me,  it  is  terrible  Г 

Lavretsky  stood  still. 

'  What  do  you  want  to  hear  from  me  ? '  he 
articulated  in  an  expressionless  voice. 

*  Nothing,  nothing,'  she  rejoined  quickly,  '  1 
know  I  have  no  right  to  expect  anything  ;  I 
am  not  mad,  believe  me  ;  I  do  not  hope,  I  do 
not  dare  to  hope  for  your  forgiveness  ;  I  only 
venture  to  entreat  vou  to  command  me  what  I 
am  to  do,  where  I  am  to  live.  Like  a  slave  I  will 
fulfil  your  commands  whatever  they  may  be.' 

*  I  have  no  commands  to  give  you,'  replied 
Lavretsky  in  the  same  colourless  voice  ;  '  you 
know,  all  is  over  between  us  .  ,  ,   and  now 

225  p 


л  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

more  than  ever  ;  you  can  live  where  you  like ; 
and  if  your  allowance  is  too  little ' 

'  Ah,  don't  say  such  dreadful  things/  Varvara 
Pavlovna  interrupted  him,  '  spare  me,  if  only 
.  .  .  if  only  for  the  sake  of  this  angel.'  And  as 
she  uttered  these  words,  Varvara  Pavlovna  ran 
impulsively  into  the  next  room,  and  returned 
at  once  with  a  small  and  very  elegantly  dressed 
little  girl  in  her  arms.  Thick  flaxen  curls  fell 
over  her  pretty  rosy  little  face,and  on  to  her  large 
sleepy  black  eyes  ;  she  smiled  and  blinked  her 
eyes  at  the  light  and  laid  a  chubby  little  hand 
on  her  mother's  neck. 

'  Ada^  vois,  c'est  ton  pbrel  said  Varvara 
Pavlovna,  pushing  the  curls  back  from  her  eyes 
and  kissing  her  vigorously,  ^ prie  le  avec  mot.' 

'  Cest  да,  papa  ? '  stammered  the  little  girl 
lisping. 

'  Oui,  топ  enfant,  n'est-ce  pas  que  tu  lamies?' 

But  this  was  more  than  Lavretsky  could 
stand. 

'  In  such  a  melodrama  must  there  really  be 
a  scene  like  this?'  he  muttered,  and  went  out 
of  the  room. 

Varvara  Pavlovna  stood  still  for  some  time 
in  the  same  place,  slightly  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  carried  the  little  girl  off  into  the 
next  room,  undressed  her  and  put  her  to  bed. 
Then  she  took  up  a  book  and  sat  down  near 

226 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

the  lamp,  and  after  staying  up  for  an  hour 
she  went  to  bed  herself 

'  Eh  bien^  madame  ? '  queried  her  maid,  a 
Frenchwoman  whom  she  had  brought  from 
Paris,  as  she  unlaced  her  corset. 

'  Ek  bien,  Ji(sii?ie'  she  replied,  '  he  is  a  good 
deal  older,  but  I  fancy  he  is  just  the  same  good- 
natured  fellow.  Give  me  my  gloves  for  the 
night,  and  get  out  my  grey  high-necked  dress 
for  to-morrow,  and  don't  forget  the  mutton 
cutlets  for  Ada.  ...  I  daresay  it  will  be  difficult 
to  get  them  here  ;  but  we  must  try.' 

'A  la  guerre  conime  a  la  guerre^  replied 
Justine,  as  she  put  out  the  candle. 


•nj 


XXXVII 

For  more  than  two  hours  Lavretsky  wandered 
about  the  streets  of  the  town.  The  night  he 
had  spent  in  the  outskirts  of  Paris  returned  to 
his  mind.  His  heart  was  bursting  and  his  head, 
dull  and  stunned,  was  filled  again  with  the  same 
dark  senseless  angry  thoughts,  constantly  recur- 
ring. '  She  is  alive,  she  is  here,'  he  muttered, 
with  ever  fresh  amazement.  He  felt  that  he 
had  lost  Lisa.  His  wrath  choked  him  ;  this 
blow  had  fallen  too  suddenly  upon  him.  How 
could  he  so  readily  have  believed  in  the  non- 
sensical gossip  of  a  journal,  a  wretched  scrap  of 
paper  ?  *  Well,  if  I  had  not  believed  it,'  he 
thought,  '  what  difference  would  it  have  made  ? 
I  should  not  have  known  that  Lisa  loved  me  ; 
she  would  not  have  known  it  herself  He  could 
not  rid  himself  of  the  image,  the  voice,  the  eyes 
of  his  wife  .  .  .  and  he  cursed  himself,  he  cursed 
everything  in  the  world. 

Wearied  out  he  went  towards  morning   to 
Lemm's,     For  a  long  while  he  could  make  no 
228 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

one  hear ;  at  last  at  a  window  the  old  man's 
head  appeared  in  a  nightcap,  sour,  wrinkled, 
and  utterly  unlike  the  inspired  austere  visage 
which  twenty-four  hours  before  had  looked  down 
imperiously  upon  Lavretsky  in  all  the  dignity 
of  artistic  grandeur. 

'What  do  you  want?'  queried  Lemm.  'I 
can't  play  to  you  every  night,  I  have  taken  a 
decoction  for  a  cold.'  But  Lavretsky 's  face, 
apparently,  struck  him  as  strange  ;  the  old  man 
made  a  shade  for  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  took 
a  look  at  his  belated  visitor,  and  let  him  in. 

Lavretsky  went  into  the  room  and  sank  into 
a  chair.  The  old  man  stood  still  before  him, 
wrapping  the  skirts  of  his  shabby  striped  dress- 
ing-gown around  him,  shrinking  together  and 
gnawing  his  lips. 

'  Шу  wife  is  here,'  Lavretsky  brought  out. 
He  raised  his  head  and  suddenly  broke  into 
involuntary  laughter. 

Lemm's  face  expressed  bewilderment,  but  he 
did  not  even  smile,  only  wrapped  himself  closer 
in  his  dressing-gown. 

*  Of  course,  you  don't  know,'  Lavretsky  went 
on,  '  I  had  imagined  ...  I  read  in  a  paper  that 
she  was  dead,* 

'O — oh,  did  you  read  that  lately?'  asked 
Lemm. 

'  Yes,  lately.' 

229 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLR 

'  О — oh/  repeated  the  old  man,  raising  his 
eyebrows.     '  And  she  is  here  ? ' 

'  Yes.  She  is  at  my  house  now  ;  and  I  .  .  . 
I  am  an  unlucky  fellow.' 

And  he  laughed  again. 

'  You  are  an  unlucky  fellow,'  Lemm  repeated 
slowly. 

'  Christopher  Fedoritch,'  began  Lavretsky, 
'  would  you  undertake  to  carry  a  note  for  me  ?  * 

'  H'm.     May  I  know  to  whom  ? ' 

'  Lisavet ' 

*  Ah  .  .  .  yes,  yes,  I  understand.  Very  good. 
And  when  must  the  letter  be  received  ? ' 

'  To-morrow,  as  early  as  possible.' 
'  H'm.     I  can  send  Katrine,  my  cook.     No, 
I  will  go  myself. 

'  And  you  will  bring  me  an  answer?* 

*  Yes,  I  will  bring  an  answer.' 
Lemm  sighed. 

'  Yes,  my  poor  young  friend  ;  you  are  cer- 
tainly an  unlucky  young  man.' 

Lavretsky  wrote  a  few  words  to  Lisa.  He 
told  her  of  his  wife's  arrival,  begged  her  to 
appoint  a  meeting  with  him, — then  he  flung 
himself  on  the  narrow  sofa,  with  his  face  to  the 
wall  ;  and  the  old  man  lay  down  on  the  bed, 
and  kept  muttering  a  long  while,  coughing  and 
drinking  off  his  decoction  by  gulps. 

The  morning  came  ;  they  both  got  up.  With 
230 


л  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

strange  eyes  they  looked  at  one  another.  At 
that  moment  Lavretsky  longed  to  kill  himself 
The  cook,  Katrine,  brought  them  some  villainous 
coffee.  It  struck  eight.  Lemm  put  on  his  hat, 
and  saying  that  he  was  going  to  give  a  lesson 
at  the  Kalitins'  at  ten,  but  he  could  find  a  suit- 
able pretext  for  going  there  now,  he  set  off. 
Lavretsky  flung  himself  again  on  the  little  sofa, 
and  once  more  the  same  bitter  laugh  stirred  in 
the  depth  of  his  soul.  He  thought  of  how  his 
wife  had  driven  him  out  of  his  house ;  he 
imagined  Lisa's  position,  covered  his  eyes  and 
clasped  his  hands  behind  his  head.  At  last 
Lemm  came  back  and  brought  him  a  scrap  of 
paper,  on  which  Lisa  had  scribbled  in  pencil 
the  following  words  :  '  We  cannot  meet  to-day  ; 
perhaps,  to-morrow  evening.  Good-bye.'  Lav- 
retsky thanked  Lemm  briefly  and  indifferently, 
and  went  home. 

He  found  his  wife  at  breakfast  ;  Ada,  in  curl- 
papers, in  a  little  white  frock  with  blue  ribbons, 
was  eating  her  mutton  cutlet.  Varvara  Pavlovna 
rose  at  once  directly  Lavretsky  entered  the 
room,  and  went  to  meet  him  with  humility  in 
her  face.  He  asked  her  to  follow  him  into  the 
study,  shut  the  door  after  them,  and  began  to 
walk  up  and  down  ;  she  sat  down,  modestly 
laying  one  hand  over  the  other,  and  began  to 
follow  his  movements  with  her  eyes,  which  were 
231 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

still  beautiful,  though  they  were  pencilled  lightly 
under  their  lids. 

For  some  time  Lavretsky  could  not  speak ; 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  master  himself,  he  saw 
clearly  that  Varvara  Pavlovna  was  not  in  the 
least  afraid  of  him,  but  was  assuming  an  ap- 
pearance of  being  ready  to  faint  away  in  another 
instant. 

'  Listen,  madam,'  he  began  at  last,  breathing 
with  difficulty  and  at  moments  setting  his  teeth  : 
'  it  is  useless  for  us  to  make  pretences  with  one 
another  ;  I  don't  believe  in  your  penitence  ;  and 
even  if  it  were  sincere,  to  be  with  you  again,  to 
live  with  you,  would  be  impossible  for  me.' 

Varvara  Pavlovna  bit  her  lips  and  half-closed 
her  eyes.  '  It  is  aversion,'  she  thought ;  '  all  is 
over  ;  in  his  eyes  I  am  not  even  a  woman.' 

'  Impossible,'  repeated  Lavretsky,  fastening 
the  top  buttons  of  his  coat.  '  I  don't  know  what 
induced  you  to  come  here  ;  I  suppose  you  have 
come  to  the  end  of  your  money.' 

'  Ah  !  you  hurt  me  ! '  whispered  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna. 

'  However  that  may  be — you  are,  any  way, 
my  wife,  unhappily.  I  cannot  drive  you  away 
.  .  .  and  this  is  the  proposal  I  make  you.  You 
may  to-day,  if  you  like,  set  off  to  Lavriky,  and 
live  there ;  there  is,  as  you  know,  a  good  house 
there  ;  you  will  have  everything  you  need  in 
232 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

addition  to  your  allowance  .  .  .  Do  you  agree?' 
— Varvara  Pavlovna  raised  an  embroidered 
handkerchief  to  her  face. 

*  I  have  told  you  already/  she  said,  her  lips 
twitching  nervously,  '  that  I  will  consent  to 
whatever  you  think  fit  to  do  with  me  ;  at  pre- 
sent it  only  remains  for  me  to  beg  of  you — will 
you  allow  me  at  least  to  thank  you  for  your 
magnanimity  ?' 

*  No  thanks,  I  beg — it  is  better  without  that,' 
Lavretsky  said  hurriedly.  '  So  then,'  he  pur- 
sued, approaching  the  door,  '  I  may  reckon 
on ' 

'  To-morrow  I  will  be  at  Lavriky,'  Varvara 
Pavlovna  declared,  rising  respectfully  from  her 

place.   '  But  Fedor  Ivanitch '  (She  no  longer 

called  him  '  Theodore!') 

'  What  do  you  want  ? ' 

'  I  know,  I  have  not  yet  gained  any  right  to 
forgiveness ;  may  I  hope  at  least  that  with 
time ' 

*  Ah,  Varvara  Pavlovna,'  Lavretsky  broke  in, 
*  you  are  a  clever  woman,  but  I  too  am  not  a 
fool  ;  I  know  that  you  don't  want  forgiveness 
in  the  least.  And  I  have  forgiven  you  long 
ago  ;  but  there  was  always  a  great  gulf  be- 
tween us.' 

'  I  know  how  to  submit,'  rejoined  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna, bowing  her  head.     '  I  have  not  forgotten 

233 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

my  sin  ;  I  should  not  have  been  surprised  if  I 
had  learnt  that  you  even  rejoiced  at  the  news  of 
my  death,'  she  added  softly,  slightly  pointing 
with  her  hand  to  the  copy  of  the  journal  which 
was  lying  forgotten  by  Lavretsky  on  the  table. 

Fedor  Ivanitch  started  ;  the  paper  had  been 
marked  in  pencil.  Varvara  Pavlovna  gazed  at 
him  with  still  greater  humility.  She  was  superb 
at  that  moment.  Her  grey  Parisian  gown  clung 
gracefully  round  her  supple,  almost  girlish 
figure  ;  her  slender,  soft  neck,  encircled  by  a 
white  collar,  her  bosom  gently  stirred  by  her 
even  breathing,  her  hands  innocent  of  bracelets 
and  rings — her  whole  figure,  from  her  shining 
hair  to  the  tip  of  her  just  visible  little  shoe,  was 
so  artistic  .  .  . 

Lavretsky  took  her  in  with  a  glance  of 
hatred  ;  scarcely  could  he  refrain  from  crying : 
*  Bravo  ! '  scarcely  could  he  refrain  from  felling 
her  with  a  blow  of  his  fist  on  her  shapely  head 
— and  he  turned  on  his  heel.  An  hour  later  he 
had  started  for  Vassilyevskoe,  and  two  hours 
later  Varvara  Pavlovna  had  bespoken  the  best 
carriage  in  the  town,  had  put  on  a  simple  straw 
hat  with  a  black  veil,  and  a  modest  mantle, 
given  Ada  into  the  charge  of  Justine,  and  set 
off  to  the  Kalitins'.  From  the  inquiries  she  had 
made  among  the  servants,  she  had  learnt  that 
her  husband  went  to  see  them  every  day. 
234 


XXXVIII 

The  day  of  the  arrival  of  Lavretsky's  wife  at 

the  town  of  О ,  a  sorrowful  day  for  him,  had 

been  also  a  day  of  misery  for  Lisa.  She  had 
not  had  time  to  go  down-stairs  and  say  good- 
morning  to  her  mother,  when  the  tramp  of  hoofs 
was  heard  under  the  window,  and  with  secret 
dismay  she  saw  Panshin  riding  into  the  court- 
yard. '  lie  has  come  so  early  for  a  final  ex- 
planation,' she  thought,  and  she  was  not  mis- 
taken. After  a  turn  in  the  drawing-room,  he 
suggested  that  she  should  go  with  him  into  the 
garden,  and  then  asked  her  for  the  decision  of 
his  fate.  Lisa  summoned  up  all  her  courage 
and  told  him  that  she  could  not  be  his  wife. 
He  heard  her  to  the  end,  standing  on  one  side 
of  her  and  pulling  his  hat  down  over  his  fore- 
head ;  courteously,  but  in  a  changed  voice,  he 
asked  her,  '  Was  this  her  last  word,  and  had  he 
given  her  any  ground  for  such  a  change  in  her 
views?' — then  pressed  his  hand  to  his  eyes, 
sighed  softly  and  abruptly,  and  took  his  hand 
away  from  his  face  again. 
235 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

•  I  did  not  want  to  go  along  the  beaten  track/ 
he  said  huskily.  '  I  wanted  to  choose  a  wife 
according  to  the  dictates  of  my  heart  ;  but  it 
seems  this  was  not  to  be.  Farewell,  fond 
dream  ! '  He  made  Lisa  a  profound  bow,  and 
went  back  into  the  house. 

She  hoped  that  he  would  go  away  at  once  ; 
but  he  went  into  Marya  Dmitrievna's  room  and 
remained  nearly  an  hour  with  her.  As  he  came 
out,  he  said  to  Lisa  :  '  Voire  mere  vous  appelle ; 
adieu  d,  jamais^  .  .  .  mounted  his  horse,  and  set 
off  at  full  trot  from  the  very  steps.  Lisa  went 
in  to  Marya  Dmitrievna  and  found  her  in  tears; 
Panshin  had  informed  her  of  his  ill-luck. 

*  Do  you  want  to  be  the  death  of  mc  ?  Do 
you  want  to  be  the  death  of  me  ? '  was  how  the 
disconsolate  widow  began  her  lamentations. 
'  Whom  do  you  want  ?  Wasn't  he  good  enough 
for  you  .'*  A  kammer  junker !  not  interesting ! 
He  might  have  married  any  Maid  of  Honour 
he  liked  in  Petersburg.  And  I — I  had  so  hoped 
for  it !  Is  it  long  that  you  have  changed  towards 
him?  How  has  this  misfortune  come  on  us, — it 
cannot  have  come  of  itself !  Is  it  that  dolt  of 
a  cousin's  doing  ?  A  nice  person  you  have 
picked  up  to  advise  you  ! ' 

'  And  he,  poor  darling,'  Marya  Dmitrievna 
went  on,  '  how  respectful  he  is,  how  attentive 
even  in  his  sorrow  !     He  has  promised  not  to 
236 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

desert  me.  Ah,  I  can  never  bear  thatl  Ah, 
my  head  aches  fit  to  split !  Send  me  Palashka. 
You  will  be  the  death  of  me,  if  you  don't  think 
better  of  it, — do  you  hear  ? '  And,  calling  her 
twice  an  ungrateful  girl,  Marya  Dmitrievna  dis- 
missed her. 

She  went  to  her  own  room.  But  she  had  not 
had  time  to  recover  from  her  interviews  with 
Panshin  and  her  mother  before  another  storm 
broke  over  her  head,  and  this  time  from  a 
quarter  from  which  she  would  least  have  ex- 
pected it.  Marfa  Timofyevna  came  into  her 
room,  and  at  once  slammed  the  door  after  her. 
The  old  lady's  face  was  pale,  her  cap  was  awry, 
her  eyes  were  flashing,  and  her  hands  and  lips 
were  trembling.  Lisa  was  astonished  ;  she  had 
never  before  seen  her  sensible  and  reasonable 
aunt  in  such  a  condition. 

'  A  pretty  thing,  miss,'  Marfa  Timofyevna 
began  in  a  shaking  and  broken  whisper,  'a 
pretty  thing  !  Who  taught  you  such  ways,  I 
should  like  to  know,  miss  ?  .  .  ,  Give  me  some 
water  ;  I  can't  speak.' 

'Calm  yourself,  auntie,  what  is  the  matter?' 
said  Lisa,  giving  her  a  glass  of  water,  '  Why,  I 
thought  you  did  not  think  much  of  Mr.  Panshin 
yourself,' 

Marfa  Timofyevna  pushed  away  the  glass. 

'  I  can't  drink  ;  I  shall  knock  my  last  teeth 
237 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

out  if  I  try  to.  What 's  Panshin  to  do  with  it  ? 
Why  bring  Panshin  in  ?  You  had  better  tell 
me  who  has  taught  you  to  make  appointments 
at  night — eh  ?  miss  ?  ' 

Lisa  turned  pale. 

'  Now,  please,  don't  try  to  deny  it/  pursued 
Marfa  Timofyevna  ;  '  Shurotchka  herself  saw 
it  all  and  told  me.  I  have  had  to  forbid  her 
chattering,  but  she  is  not  a  liar.' 

*  I  don't  deny  it,  auntie,'  Lisa  uttered  scarcely 
audibly. 

'  Ah,  ah  !  That 's  it,  is  it,  miss  ;  you  made  an 
appointment  with  him,  that  old  sinner,  who 
seems  so  meek?' 

'No.' 

'  How  then  ? ' 

*  I  went  down  into  the  drawing-room  for  a 
book  ;  he  was  in  the  garden — and  he  called 
me.' 

'And  you  went?  A  pretty  thing!  So  you 
love  him,  eh  ? ' 

*  I  love  him,'  answered  Lisa  softly. 

'  Merciful  Heavens  1    She  loves  him  ! '    Marfa 
Timofyevna  snatched  off  her  cap.    '  She  loves  a 
married  man  !     Ah  !  she  loves  him.' 
'  He  told  me '  .  .  .  began  Lisa. 
'  What  has  he  told  you,  the  scoundrel,  eh  ?  * 
'He  told  me  that  his  wife  was  dead,' 
Marfa  Timofyevna  crossed  herself.     '  Peace 
238 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

be  with  her/  she  muttered  ;  '  she  was  a  vain 
hussy,  God  forgive  her.  So,  then,  he 's  a 
widower,  I  suppose.  And  he  's  losing  no  time, 
I  see.  He  has  buried  one  wife  and  now  he  's 
after  another.  He  's  a  nice  person  :  only  let  me 
tell  you  one  thing,  niece  ;  in  my  day,  when  I 
was  young,  harm  came  to  young  girls  from  such 
goings  on.  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  my  girl, 
only  fools  are  angry  at  the  truth.  I  have  given 
orders  not  to  admit  him  to-day.  I  love  him, 
but  I  shall  never  forgive  him  for  this.  Upon 
my  word,  a  widower  !  Give  me  some  water. 
But  as  for  your  sending  Panshin  about  his 
business,  I  think  you  're  a  first-rate  girl  for  that. 
Only  don't  you  go  sitting  of  nights  with  any 
animals  of  that  sort ;  don't  break  my  old  heart, 
or  else  you  '11  see  I  'm  not  all  fondness — I  can 
bite  too  ...  a  widower  ! ' 

Marfa  Timofyevna  went  off,  and  Lisa  sat 
down  in  a  corner  and  began  to  cry.  There  was 
bitterness  in  her  soul.  She  had  not  deserved 
such  humiliation.  Love  had  proved  no  happi- 
ness to  her :  she  was  weeping  for  a  second  time 
since  yesterday  evening.  This  new  unexpected 
feeling  had  only  just  arisen  in  her  heart,  and 
already  what  a  heavy  price  she  had  paid  for 
it,  how  coarsely  had  strange  hands  touched  her 
sacred  secret.  She  felt  ashamed,  and  bitter,  and 
sick  ;  but  she  had  no  doubt  and  no  dread — and 
239 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Lavretsky  was  dearer  to  her  than  ever.  She  had 
hesitated  while  she  did  not  understand  herself ; 
but  after  that  meeting,  after  that  kiss — she  could 
hesitate  no  more  :  she  knew  that  she  loved,  and 
now  she  loved  honestly  and  seriously,  she  was 
bound  firmly  for  all  her  life,  and  she  did  not 
fear  reproaches.  She  felt  that  by  no  violence 
could  they  break  that  bond. 


240 


XXXIX 

Marya  Dmitrievna  was  much  agitated  when 
she  received  the  announcement  of  the  arrival  of 
Varvara  Pavlovna  Lavretsky  ,  she  did  not  even 
know  whether  to  receive  her  ;  she  was  afraid  of 
giving  offence  to  Fedor  Ivanitch.  At  last 
curiosity  prevailed.  '  Why,'  she  reflected,  '  she 
too  is  a  relation,'  and,  taking  up  her  position  in 
an  arm-chair,  she  said  to  the  footman, '  Show  her 
in,'  A  few  moments  passed  ;  the  door  opened  ; 
Varvara  Pavlovna,  swiftly  and  with  scarcely 
audible  steps,  approached  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
and  not  allowing  her  to  rise  from  her  chair, 
bent  almost  on  her  knees  before  her. 

*  I  thank  you,  dear  aunt,'  she  began  in  a  soft 
voice  full  of  emotion,  speaking  Russian ;  '  I 
thank  you  ;  I  did  not  hope  for  such  condescen- 
sion on  your  part  ;  you  are  an  angel  of  good- 
ness.' 

As  she  uttered  these  words  Varvara  Pavlovna 
quite  unexpectedly  took  possession  of  one  of 
Marya   Dmitrievna's    hands,   and    pressing    it 

Hi  Q 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

lightly  in  her  pale  lavender  gloves,  she  raised  it 
in  a  fawning  way  to  her  full  rosy  lips.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  quite  lost  her  head,  seeing  such  a 
handsome  and  charmingly  dressed  woman  al- 
most at  her  feet.  She  did  not  know  where  she 
was.  And  she  tried  to  withdraw  her  hand,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  she  was  inclined  to  make  her 
sit  down,  and  to  say  something  affectionate  to 
her.  She  ended  by  raising  Varva/a  Pavlovna 
and  kissing  her  on  her  smooth  perfumed  brow. 
Varvara  Pavlovna  was  completely  overcome  by 
this  kiss. 

'  How  do  you  do,  bonjourl  said  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna. 'Of  course  I  did  not  expect .  .  .  but,  of 
course,  I  am  glad  to  see  vou.  You  understand, 
my  dear,  it 's  not  for  me  to  judge  between  man 
and  wife '  .  .  . 

'  My  husband  is  in  the  right  in  everything, 
Varvara  Pavlovna  interposed  ;  *  I  alone  am  to 
blame.' 

'  That  is  a  very  praiseworthy  feeling,'  rejoined 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  '  very.  Have  you  been  here 
long?  Have  you  seen  him.''  But  sit  down, 
please.' 

'  I  arrived  yesterday,'  answered  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna, sitting  down  meekly.  '  I  have  seen 
Fedor  Ivanitch  ;  I  have  talked  with  him.' 

'Ah  !    Well,  and  how  was  he  .''' 

'  I  was  afraid  my  sudden  arrival  would  pro- 
242 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

voke  his  anger/  continued  Varvara  Pavlovna, 
'  but  he  did  not  refuse  to  see  me.' 

*  That  is  to  say,  he  did  not  .  .  .  Yes,  yes,  I 
understand,'  commented  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
'  He  is  only  a  little  rough  on  the  surface,  but 
his  heart  is  soft' 

'  Fedor  Ivanitch  has  not  forgiven  me  ;  he 
would  not  hear  me.  But  he  was  so  good  as  to 
assign  me  Lavriky  as  a  place  of  residence.' 

*  Ah  !  a  splendid  estate  ! ' 

*  I  am  setting  off  there  to-morroAv  in  fulfil- 
ment of  his  wish  ;  but  I  esteemed  it  a  duty  to 
visit  you  first.' 

'  I  am  very,  very  much  obliged  to  you,  my 
dear.  Relations  ought  never  to  forget  one 
another.  And  do  you  know  I  am  surprised 
how  well  you  speak  Russian.     С  est  etonnant.' 

Varvara  Pavlovna  sighed. 

'  I  have  been  too  long  abroad,  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna, I  know  that ;  but  my  heart  has  always  been 
Russian,  and  I  have  not  forgotten  my  country.' 

'  Ah,  ah  ;  that  is  good.  Fedor  Ivanitch  did 
not,  however,  expect  you  at  all.  Yes  ;  you  may 
trust  my  experience,  la  patrie  avant  tout.  Ah, 
show  me,  if  you  please  —  what  a  charming 
mantle  you  have.' 

'  Do  you  like  it  ?  '  Varvara  Pavlovna  slipped 
it  quickly  off  her  shoulders  ;  '  it  is  a  very  simple 
little  thing  from  Madame  Baudran.' 

243 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*One  can  see  it  at  once.  From  Madame 
Baudran  ?  How  sweet,  and  what  taste  !  I  am 
sure  you  have  brought  a  number  of  fascinating 
things  with  you.     If  I  could  only  see  them.' 

'  All  my  things  are  at  your  service,  dearest 
auntie.  If  you  permit,  I  can  show  some  pat- 
terns to  your  maid.  I  have  a  woman  with  me 
from  Paris — a  wonderfully  clever  dressmaker.' 

'  You  are  very  good,  my  dear.  But,  really,  I 
am  ashamed.'  .  .  . 

'  Ashamed  ! '  repeated  Varvara  Pavlovna  re- 
proachfully. '  If  you  want  to  make  me  happy, 
dispose  of  me  as  if  I  were  your  property.' 

Marya  Dmitrievna  was  completely  melted. 

•  Vous  etes  charmante^  she  said.  '  But  why 
don't  you  take  off  your  hat  and  gloves  ?' 

'  What  ?  you  will  allow  me  ? '  asked  Varvara 
Pavlovna,  and  slightly,  as  though  with  emotion, 
clasped  her  hands. 

'  Of  course,  you  will  dine  with  us,  I  hope.  I 
— I  will  introduce  you  to  my  daughter.'  Marya 
Dmitrievna  was  a  little  confused.  *  Well  !  we 
are  in  for  it !  here  goes  ! '  she  thought.  *  She  is 
not  very  well  to-day.' 

*  О  ma  tantiy  how  good  you  are  ! '  cried  Var- 
vara Pavlovna,  and  she  raised  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes. 

A  page  announced  the  arrival  of  Gedeon- 
ovsky.     The  old  gossip  came  in  bowing  and 
244 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

smiling.  Marya  Dmitrievna  presented  him  to 
her  visitor.  He  was  thrown  into  confusion  for  the 
first  moment  ;  but  Varvara  Pavlovna  behaved 
with  such  coquettish  respectfulness  to  him,  that 
his  ears  began  to  tingle,  and  gossip,  slander,  and 
civility  dropped  like  honey  from  his  lips.  Var- 
vara Pavlovna  listened  to  him  with  a  restrained 
smile  and  began  by  degrees  to  talk  herself 
She  spoke  modestly  of  Paris,  of  her  travels,  of 
Baden  ;  twice  she  made  Marya  Dmitrievna 
laugh,  and  each  time  she  sighed  a  little  after- 
wards, and  seemed  to  be  inwardly  reproaching 
herself  for  misplaced  levity.  She  obtained  per- 
mission to  bring  Ada  ;  taking  off  her  gloves, 
with  her  smooth  hands,  redolent  of  soap  d 
la  guimauve,  she  showed  how  and  where 
flounces  were  worn  and  ruches  and  lace  and 
rosettes.  She  promised  to  bring  a  bottle  of 
the  new  English  scent,  Victoria  Essence  ;  and 
was  as  happy  as  a  child  when  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna consented  to  accept  it  as  a  gift.  She 
was  moved  to  tears  over  the  recollection  of  the 
emotion  she  experienced,  when,  for  the  first 
time,  she  heard  the  Russian  bells.  '  They  went 
so  deeply  to  my  heart,'  she  explained. 

At  that  instant  Lisa  came  in. 

Ever  since  the  morning,  from  the  very  instant 
when,  chill  with  horror,  she  had  read  Lavretsky's 
note,  Lisa  had  been  preparing  herself  for  the 
345 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

meeting  with  his  wife.  She  had  a  presenti- 
ment that  she  would  sec  her.  She  resolved  not 
to  avoid  her,  as  a  punisliment  of  her,  as  she 
called  them,  sinful  hopes.  The  sudden  crisis  in 
her  destiny  had  shaken  her  to  the  foundations. 
In  some  two  hours  her  face  seemed  to  have 
grown  thin.  But  she  did  not  shed  a  single 
tear.  '  It 's  what  I  deserve  ! '  she  said  to  her- 
self, repressing  with  difficulty  and  dismay  some 
bitter  impulses  of  hatred  which  frightened  her 
in  her  soul.  '  Well,  I  must  go  down  ! '  she 
thought  directly  she  heard  of  Madame  Lavret- 
sky's  arrival,  and  she  went  down.  .  .  .  She  stood 
a  long  while  at  the  drawing-room  door  before 
she  could  summon  up  courage  to  open  it 
With  the  thought,  '  I  have  done  her  wrong,'  she 
crossed  the  threshold  and  forced  herself  to  look 
at  her,  forced  herself  to  smile.  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna  went  to  meet  her  directly  she  caught 
sight  of  her,  and  bowed  to  her  slightly,  but  still 
respectfully.  '  Allow  me  to  introduce  myself,' 
she  began  in  an  insinuating  voice,  *  your  viaman 
is  so  indulgent  to  me  that  I  hope  that  you  too 
will  be  .  .  .  good  to  me.'  The  expression  of 
Varvara  Pavlovna,  when  she  uttered  these  last 
words,  cold  and  at  the  same  time  soft,  her 
hypocritical  smile,  the  action  of  her  hands,  and 
her  shoulders,  her  very  dress,  her  whole  being 
aroused  such  a  feeling  of  repulsion  in  Lisa  that 
246 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

she  could  make  no  reply  to  her,  and  only  held 
out  her  hand  with  an  effort,  '  This  young  lady 
disdains  me,'  thought  Varvara  Pavlovna,  warmly 
pressing  Lisa's  cold  fingers,  and  turning  to 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  she  observed  in  an  under- 
tone, '  mais  elle  est  delicieuse  ! '  Lisa  faintly 
flushed ;  she  heard  ridicule,  insult  in  this  ex- 
clamation. But  she  resolved  not  to  trust  her 
impressions,  and  sat  down  by  the  window  at 
her  embroidery-frame.  Even  here  Varvara 
Pavlovna  did  not  leave  her  in  peace.  She 
began  to  admire  her  taste,  her  skill.  .  ,  .  Lisa's 
heart  beat  violently  and  painfully.  She  could 
scarcely  control  herself,  she  could  scarcely  sit 
in  her  place.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Var- 
vara Pavlovna  knew  all,  and  was  mocking  at 
her  in  secret  triumph.  To  her  relief,  Gedeon- 
ovsky  began  to  talk  to  Varvara  Pavlovna,  and 
drew  off  her  attention.  Lisa  bent  over  her  frame, 
and  secretly  watched  her.  *  That  woman,'  she 
thought,  '  was  loved  by  hini^  But  she  at  once 
drove  away  the  very  thought  of  Lavretsky  ;  she 
was  afraid  of  losing  her  control  over  herself, 
she  felt  that  her  head  was  going  round.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  began  to  talk  of  music. 

*  I  have  heard,  my  dear,'  she  began,  '  that  you 
are  a  wonderful  performer.' 

'  It  is  long  since  I  have  played,'  replied  Var- 
vara Pavlovna,  seating  herself  without  delay 
247 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

at  the  piano,  and  running  her  fingers  smartly 
over  the  keys.     '  Do  you  wish  it  ?  ' 

'  If  you  will  be  so  kind.' 

Varvara  Pavlovna  played  a  brilliant  and 
difficult  etude  by  Hertz  very  correctly.  She 
had  great  power  and  execution. 

'  Sylphide  !  '  cried  Gedeonovsky. 

'  Marvellous  ! '  Marya  Dmitrievna  chimed  in. 
'  Well,  Varvara  Pavlovna  T  confess,'  she  ob- 
served, for  the  first  time  calling  her  by  her 
name,  '  you  have  astonished  me ;  you  might 
give  concerts.  We  have  a  musician  here,  an  old 
German,  a  queer  fellow,  but  a  very  clever 
musician.  He  gives  Lisa  lessons.  He  will  be 
simply  crazy  over  you.' 

'  Lisaveta  Mihalovna  is  also  musical  ?' asked 
Varvara  Pavlovna,  turning  her  head  slightly 
towards  her. 

*  Yes,  she  plays  fairly,  and  is  fond  of  music  ; 
but  what  is  that  beside  you  ?  But  there  is  one 
young  man  here  too — with  whom  we  must 
make  you  acquainted.  He  is  an  artist  in  soul, 
and  composes  very  charmingly.  He  alone  will 
be  able  to  appreciate  you  fully.' 

*  A  young  man  ? '  said  Varvara  Pavlovna  : 
'  Who  is  he  ?    Some  poor  man  ? ' 

'  Oh  dear  no,  our  chief  beau,  and  not  only 
among    us — et   a    Petersbourg.       A    kammer- 
j'unker,  and  received  in  the  best  society.     You 
248 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

must  have  heard  of  him  :  Panshin,  Vladimir 
Nikolaitch.  He  is  here  on  a  government 
commission  ...  a  future  minister,  I  daresay ! ' 

'  And  an  artist  ?  ' 

*  An  artist  at  heart,  and  so  well-bred.  You 
shall  see  him.  He  has  been  here  very  often  of 
late  :  I  invited  him  for  this  evening  ;  I  hope  he 
will  come,'  added  Marya  Dmitrievna  with  a 
gentle  sigh,  and  an  oblique  smile  of  bitterness. 

Lisa  knew  the  meaning  of  this  smile,  but  it 
was  nothing  to  her  now. 

'  And  young  ?  '  repeated  Varvara  Pavlovna, 
lightly  modulating  from  tone  to  tone. 

'  Twenty-eight,  and  of  the  most  prepossessing 
appearance.     Un  j'eune  honime  accompli,  indeed.' 

'  An  exemplary  young  man,  one  may  say,' 
observed  Gedeonovsky. 

Varvara  Pavlovna  began  suddenly  playing  a 
noisy  waltz  of  Strauss,  opening  with  such  a 
loud  and  rapid  trill  that  Gedeonovsky  was 
quite  startled.  In  the  very  middle  of  the  waltz 
she  suddenly  passed  into  a  pathetic  motive,  and 
finished  up  with  an  air  from  '  Lucia 'i^ra  poco. 
.  .  .  She  reflected  that  lively  music  was  not  in 
keeping  with  her  position.  The  air  from 
*  Lucia,'  with  emphasis  on  the  sentimental 
passages,  moved  Marya  Dmitrievna  greatly. 

'  What  soul ! '  she  observed  in  an  undertone 
to  Gedeonovsky. 

249 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

A  sylphide  ! '  repeated  Gedeonovsky,  raising 
his  eyes  towards  heaven. 

The  dinner  hour  arrived.  Marfa  Timofyevna 
came  down  from  up-stairs,  when  the  soup  was 
already  on  the  table.  She  treated  Varvara 
Pavlovna  very  drily,  replied  in  half-sentences  to 
her  civilities,  and  did  not  look  at  her.  Var- 
vara Pavlovna  soon  realised  that  there  was 
nothing  to  be  got  out  of  this  old  lady,  and 
gave  up  trying  to  talk  to  her.  To  make  up  for 
this,  Marya  Dmitrievna  became  still  more 
cordial  to  her  guest  ;  her  aunt's  discourtesy 
irritated  her.  Marfa  Timofyevna,  however,  did 
not  only  avoid  looking  at  Varvara  Pavlovna  ; 
she  did  not  look  at  Lisa  either,  though  her  eyes 
seemed  literally  blazing.  She  sat  as  though 
she  were  of  stone,  yellow  and  pale,  her  lips 
compressed,  and  ate  nothing.  Lisa  seemed 
calm  ;  and  in  reality,  her  heart  was  more  a*" 
rest ;  a  strange  apathy,  the  apathy  of  the  con- 
demned had  come  upon  her.  At  dinner  Var- 
vara Pavlovna  spoke  little  ;  she  seemed  to  have 
grown  timid  again,  and  her  countenance  was 
overspread  with  an  expression  of  modest  melan- 
choly. Gedeonovsky  alone  enlivened  the  con 
versation  with  his  tales,  though  he  constantly 
looked  timorously  towards  Marfa  Timofyevna 
and  coughed — he  was  always  overtaken  by  a 
fit  of  coughing  when  he  was  going  to  tell  a 
250 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

lie  in  her  presence — but  she  did  not  hinder 
him  by  any  interruption.  After  dinner  it  seemed 
that  Varvara  Pavlovna  was  quite  devoted  to 
preference  ;  at  this  Marya  Dmitrievna  was  so 
dehghted  that  she  felt  quite  overcome,  and 
thought  to  herself,  '  Really  what  a  fool  Fedor 
Ivanitch  must  be  ;  not  able  to  appreciate  a 
woman  like  this  !' 

She  sat  down  to  play  cards  together  with 
her  and  Gedeonovsky,  and  Marfa  Timofyevna 
led  Lisa  away  up-stairs  with  her,  saying  that 
she  looked  shocking,  and  that  she  must  cer- 
tainly have  a  headache. 

'Yes,  she  has  an  awful  headache,'  observed 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  turning  to  Varvara  Pavlovna 
and  rolling  her  eyes,  '  I  myself  have  often  just 
such  sick  headaches.' 

'  Really  ! '  rejoined  Varvara  Pavlovna. 

Lisa  went  into  her  aunt's  room,  and  sank 
powerless  into  a  chair.  Marfa  Timofyevna 
gazed  long  at  her  in  silence,  slowly  she  knelt 
down  before  her — and  began  still  in  the  same 
silence  to  kiss  her  hands  alternately.  Lisa 
bent  forward,  crimsoning — and  began  to  weep, 
but  she  did  not  make  Marfa  Timofyevna  get 
up,  she  did  not  take  away  her  hands ;  she  felt 
that  she  had  not  the  right  to  take  them  away, 
that  she  had  not  the  right  to  hinder  the  old 
lady  from  expressing  her  penitence,  and  her 
251 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

sympathy,  from  begging  forgiveness  for  what 
had  passed  the  day  before.  And  Marfa  Timof- 
yevna  could  not  kiss  enough  those  poor, 
pale,  powerless  hands,  and  silent  tears  flowed 
from  her  eyes  and  from  Lisa's  ;  while  the  cat 
Matross  purred  in  the  wide  arm-chair  among 
the  knitting  wool,  and  the  long  flame  of  the 
little  lamp  faintly  stirred  and  flickered  before 
the  holy  picture.  In  the  next  room,  behind  the 
door,  stood  Nastasya  Karpovna,  and  she  too 
was  furtively  wiping  her  eyes  with  her  check 
pocket-handkerchief  rolled  up  in  a  ball. 


252 


XL 


Meanwhile,  down-stairs,  preference  was  going 
on  merrily  in  the  drawing-room  ;  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna  was  winning,  and  was  in  high  good-humour. 
A  servant  came  in  and  announced  that  Panshin 
was  below. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  dropped  her  cards  and 
moved  restlessly  in  her  arm-chair ;  Varvara 
Pavlovna  looked  at  her  with  a  half-smile,  then 
turned  her  eyes  towards  the  door.  Panshin 
made  his  appearance  in  a  black  frock-coat 
buttoned  up  to  the  throat,  and  a  high  English 
collar.  '  It  was  hard  for  me  to  obey  ;  but  you 
see  I  have  come,'  this  was  what  was  expressed 
by  his  unsmiling,  freshly  shaven  countenance. 

'  Well,  Wo/demar,'  cried  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
*  you  used  to  come  in  unannounced  ! ' 

Panshin  only  replied  to  Marya  Dmitrievna 
by  a  single  glance.  He  bowed  courteously  to  her, 
but  did  not  kiss  her  hand.  She  presented  him 
to  Varvara  Pavlovna  ;  he  stepped  back  a  pace, 
bowed  to  her  with  the  same  courtesy,  but  with 
i>3 


л   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

still  greater  elegance  and  respect,  and  took  a 
seat  near  the  card-table.  The  game  of  prefer- 
ence was  soon  over.  Panshin  inquired  after 
Lisaveta  Mihalovna,  learnt  that  she  was  not 
quite  well,  and  expressed  his  regret.  Then  he 
began  to  talk  to  Varvara  Pavlovna,  diplo- 
matically weighing  each  word  and  giving  it  its 
full  value,  and  politely  hearing  her  answers  to 
the  end.  But  the  dignity  of  his  diplomatic  tone 
did  not  impress  Varvara  Pavlovna,  and  she  did 
not  adopt  it.  On  the  contrary,  she  looked  him 
in  the  face  with  light-hearted  attention  and 
talked  easily,  while  her  delicate  nostrils  were 
quivering  as  though  with  suppressed  laughter. 
Marya  Dmitrievna  began  to  enlarge  on  her 
talent;  Panshin  courteously  inclined  his  head, 
so  far  as  his  collar  would  permit  him,  declared 
that,  '  he  felt  sure  of  it  beforehand,'  and  almost 
turned  the  conversation  to  the  diplomatic 
topic  of  Metternich  himself  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna, with  an  expressive  look  in  her  velvety 
eyes,  said  in  a  low  voice,  '  Why,  but  you  too 
are  an  artist,  un  confrere,'  adding  still  lower, 
'  venez ! '  with  a  nod  towards  the  piano.  The 
single  word  venez  thrown  at  him,  instantly, 
as  though  by  magic,  effected  a  complete  trans- 
formation in  Panshin's  whole  appearance.  His 
care-worn  air  disappeared  ;  he  smiled  and  grew 
lively,  unbuttoned  his  coat,  and  repeating  'a 
254 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

poor  artist,  alas  !  Now  you,  I  have  heard,  are 
a  real  artist ; '  he  followed  Varvara  Pavlovna  to 
the  piano.  .  .  . 

'  Make  him  sing  his  song,  "  How  the  Moon 
Floats,"  '  cried  Marya  Dmitrievna. 

'  Do  you  sing  ? '  said  Varvara  Pavlovna, 
enfolding  him  in  a  rapid  radiant  look.  '  Sit 
down.' 

Panshin  began  to  cry  off. 

'  Sit  down,'  she  repeated  insistently,  tapping 
on  a  chair  behind  him. 

He  sat  down,  coughed,  tugged  at  his  collar, 
and  sang  his  song. 

*  Charmantl  pronounced  Varvara  Pavlovna, 
'  you  sing  very  well,  voiis  avez  du  style,  again.' 

She  walked  round  the  piano  and  stood  just 
opposite  Panshin.  He  sang  it  again,  increasing 
the  melodramatic  tremor  in  his  voice.  Var- 
vara Pavlovna  stared  steadily  at  him,  leaning 
her  elbows  on  the  piano  and  holding  her  white 
hands  on  a  level  with  her  lips.  Panshin  finished 
the  song. 

'  Charmant,  charmante  id^e,'  she  said  with  the 
calm  self-confidence  of  a  connoisseur.  '  Tell 
me,  have  you  composed  anything  for  a  woman's 
voice,  for  a  mezzo-soprano  ? ' 

'I   hardly  compose  at  all,'  replied  Panshin. 
•  That  was  only  thrown  off  in  the  intervals  of 
business  ,  .  .  but  do  you  sing  ? ' 
255 


A  HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  Yes/ 

*  Oh !  sing  us  something,'  urged  Marya 
Dmitrievna. 

Varvara  Pavlovna  pushed  her  hair  back  off 
her  glowing  cheeks  and  gave  her  head  a  little 
shake. 

'Our  voices  ought  to  go  well  together,'  she 
observed,  turning  to  Panshin  ;  '  let  us  sing  a 
duet.  Do  you  know  Son  geloso,  or  La  ci  darem^ 
or  Mira  la  bianca  luna  ?  ' 

'  I  used  to  sing  Mira  la  biatica  luna,  once,' 
replied  Panshin,  '  but  long  ago ;  I  have  for- 
gotten it' 

'  Never  mind,  we  will  rehearse  it  in  a  low 
voice.     Allow  me.' 

Varvara  Pavlovna  sat  down  at  the  piano, 
Panshin  stood  by  her.  They  sang  through  the 
duet  in  an  undertone,  and  Varvara  Pavlovna 
corrected  him  several  times  as  they  did  so,  then 
they  sang  it  aloud,  and  then  twice  repeated  the 
performance  of  Jlflra  la  bianca  lu-u-una,  Var- 
vara Pavlovna's  voice  had  lost  its  freshness,  but 
she  managed  it  with  great  skill.  Panshin  at 
first  was  hesitating,  and  a  little  out  of  tune,  then 
he  warmed  up,  and  if  his  singing  was  not  quite 
beyond  criticism,  at  least  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  swayed  his  whole  person,  and  lifted 
his  hand  from  time  to  time  in  the  most  genuine 
style.  Varvara  Pavlovna  played  two  or  three 
256 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

little  things  of  Thalberg's,  and  coquettishly 
rendered  a  little  French  ballad.  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna  did  not  know  how  to  express  her  delight ; 
she  several  times  tried  to  send  for  Lisa.  Gedeon- 
ovsky,  too,  was  at  a  loss  for  words,  and  could 
only  nod  his  head,  but  all  at  once  he  gave  an 
unexpected  yawn,  and  hardly  had  time  to  cover 
his  mouth  with  his  hand.  This  yawn  did  not 
escape  Varvara  Pavlovna ;  she  at  once  turned 
her  back  on  the  piano,  observing,  'Asses  de  mu- 
sigue  comme  ^a  ;  let  us  talk,'  and  she  folded  her 
arms.  '  Qui,  assez  de  mrisiquel  repeated  Panshin 
gaily,  and  at  once  he  dropped  into  a  chat,  alert, 
light,  and  in  French.  '  Precisely  as  in  the  best 
Parisian  salon,'  thought  Marya  Dmitrievna,  as 
she  listened  to  their  fluent  and  quick-witted 
sentences.  Panshin  had  a  sense  of  complete 
satisfaction  ;  his  eyes  shone,  and  he  smiled.  At 
first  he  passed  his  hand  across  his  face,  con- 
tracted his  brows,  and  sighed  spasmodically 
whenever  he  chanced  to  encounter  Marya 
Dmitrievna's  eyes.  But  later  on  he  forgot  her 
altogether,  and  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  the 
enjoyment  of  a  half-worldly,  half-artistic  chat. 
Varvara  Pavlovna  proved  to  be  a  great  philoso- 
pher ;  she  had  a  ready  answer  for  everything ; 
she  never  hesitated,  never  doubted  about  any- 
thing ;  one  could  see  that  she  had  conversed 
much  with  clever  men  of  all  kinds.  All  her 
257  R 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

ideas,  all  her  feelings  revolved  round  Paris. 
Panshin  turned  the  conversation  upon  litera- 
ture ;  it  seemed  that,  like  himself,  she  read  only 
French  books.  George  Sand  drove  her  to  ex- 
asperation, Balzac  she  respected,  but  he  wearied 
her  ;  in  Sue  aud  Scribe  she  saw  great  know- 
ledge of  human  nature,  Dumas  and  Feval  she 
adored.  In  her  heart  she  preferred  Paul  de 
Kock  to  all  of  them,  but  of  course  she  did  not 
even  mention  his  name.  To  tell  the  truth, 
literature  had  no  great  interest  for  her.  Var- 
vara  Pavlovna  very  skilfully  avoided  all  that 
could  even  remotely  recall  her  position ;  there 
was  no  reference  to  love  in  her  remarks ;  on 
the  contrary,  they  were  rather  expressive  of 
austerity  in  regard  to  the  allurements  of  passion, 
of  disillusionment  and  resignation.  Panshin 
disputed  with  her  ;  she  did  not  agree  with  him 
.  .  .  but,  strange  to  say !  ...  at  the  very  time 
when  words  of  censure — often  of  severe  censure 
— were  coming  from  her  lips,  these  words  had  a 
soft  caressing  sound,  and  her  eyes  spoke  .  .  . 
precisely  what  those  lovely  eyes  spoke,  it  was 
hard  to  say  ;  but  at  least  their  utterances  were 
anything  but  severe,  and  were  full  of  undefined 
sweetness. 

Panshin  tried  to  interpret  their  secret  mean- 
ing, he  tried  to  make  his  own  eyes  speak,  but 
he  felt  he  was  not  successful ;  he  was  conscious 
258 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

that  Varvara  Pavlovna,  in  the  character  of  a 
real  lioness  from  abroad,  stood  high  above  him, 
and  consequently  was  not  completely  master  of 
himself,  Varvara  Pavlovna  had  a  habit  in  con- 
versation of  lightly  touching  the  sleeve  of  the 
person  she  was  talking  to ;  these  momentary 
contacts  had  a  most  disquieting  influence  on 
Vladimir  Nikolaitch.  Varvara  Pavlovna  pos- 
sessed the  faculty  of  getting  on  easily  with 
every  one  ;  before  two  hours  had  passed  it 
seemed  to  Panshin  that  he  had  known  her  for 
an  age,  and  Lisa,  the  same  Lisa  whom,  at  any- 
rate,  he  had  loved,  to  whom  he  had  the  evening 
before  offered  his  hand,  had  vanished  as  it  were 
into  a  mist.  Tea  was  brought  in  ;  the  con- 
versation became  still  more  unconstrained. 
Marya  Dmitrievna  rang  for  the  page  and  gave 
orders  to  ask  Lisa  to  come  down  if  her  head 
were  better.  Panshin,  hearing  Lisa's  name,  fell 
to  discussing  self-sacrifice  and  the  question 
which  was  more  capable  of  sacrifice — man  or 
woman.  Marya  Dmitrievna  at  once  became 
excited,  began  to  maintain  that  woman  is  the 
more  ready  for  sacrifice,  declared  that  she  would 
prove  it  in  a  couple  of  words,  got  confused  and 
finished  up  by  a  rather  unfortunate  comparison. 
Varvara  Pavlovna  took  up  a  music-book  and 
half-hiding  behind  it  and  bending  towards 
Panshin,  she  observed  in  a  whisper.as  she  nibbled 
259 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

a  biscuit,  with  a  serene  smile  on  her  lips  and  in 
her  eyes,  ^Elle  n^a  pas  invente  la  poudre^  la  bonne 
dame.'  Panshin  was  a  little  taken  aback  and 
amazed  at  Varvara  Pavlovna's  audacity  ;  but  he 
did  not  realise  how  much  contempt  for  himself 
was  concealed  in  this  unexpected  outbreak,  and 
forgetting-  Marya  Dmitrievna's  kindness  and 
devotion,  forgetting  all  the  dinners  she  had 
given  him,  and  the  money  she  had  lent  him, 
he  replied  (luckless  mortal  !)  with  the  same 
smile  and  in  the  same  tone,  ^Je  crois  bienl  and 
not  even,/.?  crois  bten,  hntj 'crois  ben  ! 

Varvara  Pavlovna  flung  him  a  friendly  glance 
and  got  up.  Lisa  came  in  :  Marfa  Timofyevna 
had  tried  in  vain  to  hinder  her ;  she  was  re- 
solved to  go  through  with  her  sufferings  to  the 
end.  Varvara  Pavlovna  went  to  meet  her 
together  with  Panshin,  on  whose  face  the 
former  diplomatic  expression  had  reappeared. 

'  HoAv  are  you  ? '  he  asked  Lisa. 

*  I  am  better  now,  thank  you,'   she   replied. 

'  We  have  been  having  a  little  music  here  ;  it 's 
a  pity  you  did  not  hear  Varvara  Palovna,  she 
sings  superbly,  en  artiste  consomme'e.' 

'Come  here,  my  dear,'  sounded  Marya 
Dmitrievna's  voice. 

Varvara  Pavlovna  went  to  her  at  once  with 
the  submissiveness  of  a  child,  and  sat  down  on 
a  little  stool  at  her  feet.  Marya  Dmitrievna 
260 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

had  called  her  so  as  to  leave  her  daughter,  at 
least  for  a  moment,  alone  with  Panshin  ;  she 
was  still  secretly  hoping  that  she  would  come 
round.  Besides,  an  idea  had  entered  her  head, 
to  which  she  was  anxious  to  give  expression 
at  once. 

'Do  you  know,'  she  whispered  to  Varvara 
Pavlovna,  *  I  want  to  endeavour  to  reconcile 
you  and  your  husband ;  I  won't  answer  for  my 
success,  but  I  will  make  an  effort.  He  has,  you 
know,  a  great  respect  for  me.' 

Varvara  Pavlovna  slowly  raised  her  eyes  to 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  and  eloquently  clasped  her 
hands, 

'You  would  be  my  saviour,  ма  tante,'  she 
said  in  a  mournful  voice :  '  I  don't  know  how  to 
thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  ;  but  I  have 
been  too  guilty  towards  Fedor  Ivanitch  ;  he  can 
not  forgive  me.' 

'  But  did  you —  in  reality '  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna was  beginning  inquisitively. 

*  Don't  question  me,'  Varvara  Pavlovna  inter- 
rupted her,  and  she  cast  down  her  eyes.  *  I  was 
young,  frivolous.  But  I  don't  want  to  justify 
myself.' 

'  Well,  anyway,  why  not  try  ?     Don't  despair,' 

rejoined    Marya  Dmitrievna,   and  she  was   on 

the  point  of  patting  heron  the  cheek,  but  after  a 

glance  at  her  she  had  not  the  courage.     '  She  is 

261 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

humble,  very  humble/  she  thought,  'but  still 
she  is  a  lioness.' 

'  Are  you  ill  ? '  Panshin  was  saying  to  Lisa 
meanwhile. 

'Yes,  I  am  not  well.' 

'  I  understand  you,'  he  brought  out  after  a 
rather  protracted  silence.  '  Yes,  I  understand 
you.' 

'  What  ? ' 

'  I  understand  you,*  Panshin  repeated  sig- 
nificantly ;  he  simply  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

Lisa  felt  embarrassed,  and  then  'so  be  it ! ' 
she  thought.  Panshin  assumed  a  mysterious 
air  and  kept  silent,  looking  severely  away. 

'  I  fancy  though  it 's  struck  eleven,'  remarked 
Marya  Dmitrievna. 

Her  guests  took  the  hint  and  began  to  say 
good-bye.  Varvara  Pavlovna  had  to  promise 
that  she  would  come  to  dinner  the  following  day 
?Lnd  bring  Ada.  Gedeonovsky,  who  had  all  but 
fallen  asleep  sitting  in  his  corner,  offered  to  escort 
her  home.  Panshin  took  leave  solemnly  of  all, but 
at  the  steps  as  he  put  Varvara  Pavlovna  into  her 
carriage  he  pressed  her  hand,  and  cried  after  her, 
'  ail  rcvoir  !  *  Gedeonovsky  sat  beside  her  all 
the  way  home.  She  amused  herself  by  pressing 
the  tip  of  her  little  foot  as  though  accidentally 
on  his  foot ;  he  was  thrown  into  confusion  and 
began  paying  her  compliments.  She  tittered 
262 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

and  made  eyes  at  him  when  the  h'ght  of  a 
street  lamp  fell  into  the  carriage.  The  waltz 
she  had  played  was  ringing  in  her  head,  and 
exciting  her ;  whatever  position  she  might  find 
herself  in,  she  had  only  to  imagine  lights,  a  ball- 
room, rapid  whirling  to  the  strains  of  music — 
and  her  blood  was  on  fire,  her  eyes  glittered 
strangely,  a  smile  strayed  about  her  lips,  and 
something  of  bacchanalian  grace  was  visible  over 
her  whole  frame.  When  she  reached  home 
Varvara  Pavlovna  bounded  lightly  out  of  the 
carriage — only  real  lionesses  know  how  to  bound 
like  that — and  turning  round  to  Gedeonovsky 
she  burst  suddenly  into  a  ringing  laugh  right  in 
his  face. 

'  An  attractive  person,'  thought  the  counsellor 
of  state  as  he  made  his  way  to  his  lodgings, 
where  his  servant  was  awaiting  him  with  a 
glass  of  opodeldoc:  'It's  well  I 'm  a  steady 
fellow — only,  what  was  she  laughing  at  ?  ' 

Marfa  Timofyevna  spent  the  whole  night 
sitting  beside  Lisa's  bed. 


263 


XLI 

Lavretsky  spent  a  day  and  a  half  at  Vassil- 
yevskoe,  and  employed  almost  all  the  time  in 
wandering  about  the  neighbourhood.  He  could 
not  stop  long  in  one  place :  he  was  devoured  by 
anguish  ;  he  was  torn  unceasingly  by  impotent 
violent  impulses.  He  remembered  the  feeling 
which  had  taken  possession  of  him  the  day 
after  his  arrival  in  the  country  ;  he  remembered 
his  plans  then  and  was  intensely  exasper- 
ated with  himself.  What  had  been  able  to  tear 
him  away  from  what  he  recognised  as  his 
duty — as  the  one  task  set  before  him  in  the 
future  ?  The  thirst  for  happiness — again  the 
same  thirst  for  happiness. 

*  It  seems  Mihalevitch  was  right/  he  thought ; 
'you  wanted  a  second  time  to  taste  happiness 
in  life,'  he  said  to  himself,  '  you  forgot  that  it 
is  a  luxury,  an  undeserved  bliss,  if  it  even 
comes  once  to  a  man.  It  was  not  complete,  it 
was  not  genuine,  you  say  ;  but  prove  your  right 
to  full,  genuine  happiness  !  Look  round  and 
see  who  is  happy,  who  enjoys  life  about  you  ? 
Look  at  that  peasant  going  to  the  mowing  ;  is 
264 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

he  contented  with  his  fate  ?  .  .  .  What !  would 
you  care  to  change  places  with  him  ?  Remem- 
ber your  mother  ;  how  infinitely  little  she  asked 
of  life,  and  what  a  life  fell  to  her  lot.  You  were 
only  bragging  it  seems  when  you  said  to  Pan- 
shin  that  you  had  come  back  to  Russia  to  culti- 
vate the  soil ;  you  have  come  back  to  dangle 
after  young  girls  in  your  old  age.  Directly 
the  news  of  your  freedom  came,  you  threw  up 
everything,  forgot  everything ;  you  ran  like  a 
boy  after  a  butterfly.'  ... 

The  image  of  Lisa  continually  presented 
itself  in  the  midst  of  his  broodings.  He  drove 
it  away  with  an  effort  together  with  another 
importunate  figure,  other  serenely  wily,  beauti- 
ful, hated  features.  Old  Anton  noticed  that 
the  master  was  not  himself:  after  sighing 
several  times  outside  the  door  and  several  times 
in  the  doorway,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  up  to 
him,  and  advised  him  to  take  a  hot  drink  of 
something.  Lavretsky  swore  at  him  ;  ordered 
him  out ;  afterwards  he  begged  his  pardon,  but 
that  only  made  Anton  still  more  sorrowful. 
Lavretsky  could  not  stay  in  the  drawing-room; 
it  seemed  to  him  that  his  great-grandfather 
Andrey,  was  looking  contemptuously  from  the 
canvas  at  his  feeble  descendant.  '  Bah :  you 
swim  in  shallow  water,'  the  distorted  lips  seemed 
to  be  saying.  *  Is  it  possible,'  he  thought,  'that 
265 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

I  cannot  master  myself,  that  I  am  going  to 
give  in  to  this  .  .  .  nonsense?'  (Those  who 
are  badly  wounded  in  war  always  call  their 
wounds  'nonsense.'  If  man  did  not  deceive 
himself,  he  could  not  live  on  earth.)  '  Am  I 
really  a  boy  ?  Ah,  well  ;  I  saw  quite  close,  I 
almost  held  in  my  hands  the  possibility  of 
happiness  for  my  whole  life  ;  yes,  in  the  lottery 
too — turn  the  wheel  a  little  and  the  beggar 
perhaps  would  be  a  rich  man.  If  it  does  not 
happen,  then  it  does  not — and  it 's  all  over.  I 
will  set  to  work,  with  my  teeth  clenched,  and 
make  myself  be  quiet ;  it 's  as  well,  it 's  not  the 
first  time  I  have  had  to  hold  myself  in.  And 
why  have  I  run  away,  why  am  I  stopping  here 
sticking  my  head  in  a  bush,  like  an  ostrich  ? 
A  fearful  thing  to  face  trouble  .  .  .  nonsense ! 
Anton,'  he  called  aloud,  '  order  the  coach  to  be 
brought  round  at  once.  Yes,'  he  thought 
again,  '  I  must  grin  and  bear  it,  I  must  keep 
myself  well  in  hand.' 

With  such  reasonings  Lavretsky  tried  to  ease 
his  pain  ;  but  it  was  deep  and  intense  ;  and 
even  Apraxya  who  had  outlived  all  emotion  as 
well  as  intelligence  shook  her  head  and  followed 
him  mournfully  with  her  eyes,  as  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  coach  to  drive  to  the  town.  The  horses 
galloped  away ;  he  sat  upright  and  motion- 
less, and  looked  fixedly  at  the  road  before  him. 
266 


XLII 

Lisa  had  written  to  Lavretsky  the  day  before, 
to  tell  him  to  come  in  the  evening  ;  but  he  first 
went  home  to  his  lodgings.  He  found  neither 
his  wife  nor  his  daughter  at  home  ;  from  the 
servants  he  learned  that  she  had  gone  with 
the  child  to  the  Kalitins'.  This  information 
astounded  and  maddened  him.  'Varvara  Pav- 
lovna  has  made  up  her  mind  not  to  let  me  live 
at  all,  it  seems,'  he  thought  with  a  passion  of 
hatred  in  his  heart.  He  began  to  walk  up  and 
down,  and  his  hands  and  feet  were  constantly 
knocking  up  against  child's  toys,  books  and 
feminine  belongings ;  he  called  Justine  and 
told  her  to  clear  away  all  this  '  litter.'  *  Oui^ 
monsieur^  she  said  with  a  grimace,  and  began 
to  set  the  room  in  order,  stooping  gracefully, 
and  letting  Lavretsky  feel  in  every  movement 
that  she  regarded  him  as  an  unpolished  bear. 
He  looked  with  aversion  at  her  faded,  but  still 
'piquante,'  ironical,  Parisian  face,  at  her  white 
elbow-sleeves,  her  silk  apron,  and  little  light  cap. 
267 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

He  sent  her  away  at  last,  and  after  long  hesita- 
tion (as  Varvara  Pavlovna  still  did  not  return) 
he  decided  to  go  to  the  Kalitins' — not  to  see 
Marya  Dmitrievna  (he  would  not  for  anything 
in  the  world  have  gone  into  that  drawing-room, 
the  room  where  his  wife  was),  but  to  go  up  to 
Marfa  Timofyevna's.  He  remembered  that  the 
back  staircase  from  the  servants'  entrance  led 
straight  to  her  apartment.  He  acted  on  this 
plan  ;  fortune  favoured  him  ;  he  met  Shurot- 
chka  in  the  court-yard ;  she  conducted  him  up 
to  Marfa  Timofyevna's.  He  found  her,  con- 
trary to  her  usual  habit,  alone  ;  she  was  sitting 
without  a  cap  in  a  corner,  bent,  and  her  arms 
crossed  over  her  breast.  The  old  lady  was 
much  upset  on  seeing  Lavretsky,  she  got  up 
quickly  and  began  to  move  to  and  fro  in  the 
room  as  if  she  were  looking  for  her  cap. 

'  Ah,  it's  you,'  she  began,  fidgeting  about  and 
avoiding  meeting  his  eyes,  'well,  how  do  you  do? 
Well,  well,  what 's  to  be  done  !  Where  were  you 
yesterday  ?  Well,  she  has  come,  so  there,  there ! 
Well,  it  must  .  .  .  one  way  or  another.' 

Lavretsky  dropped  into  a  chair. 

'  Well,  sit  down,  sit  down,'  the  old  lady  went 
on.  '  Did  you  come  straight  up-stairs  ?  Well, 
there,  of  course.  So  .  .  .  you  came  to  see  me  ? 
Thanks.' 

The  old  lady  was  silent  for  a  little  ;  Lavret- 
268 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

sky  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  her ;  but  she 
understood  him. 

'Lisa  .  .  .  yes,  Lisa  was  here  just  now/ 
pursued  Marfa  Timofyevna,  tying  and  untying 
the  tassels  of  her  reticule.  '  She  was  not  quite 
well.  Shurotchka,  where  are  you  ?  Come  here, 
my  girl ;  why  can't  you  sit  still  a  little  ?  My 
head  aches  too.  It  must  be  the  effect  of  the 
singing  and  music' 

'What  singing,  auntie?' 

'Why,  we  have  been  having  those — upon 
my  word,  what  do  you  call  them — duets  here. 
And  all  in  Italian  :  chi-chi — and  cha-cha — like 
magpies  for  all  the  world  with  their  long  drawn- 
out  notes  as  if  they  'd  pull  your  very  soul  out. 
That 's  Panshin,  and  your  wife  too.  And  how 
quickly  everything  was  settled  ;  just  as  though 
it  were  all  among  relations,  without  ceremony. 
However,  one  may  well  say,  even  a  dog  will  try 
to  find  a  home ;  and  won't  be  lost  so  long  as 
folks  don't  drive  it  out.' 

'Still,  I  confess  I  did  not  expect  this,'  re- 
joined Lavretsky  ;  '  there  must  be  great  effron- 
tery to  do  this.' 

'  No,  my  darling,  it 's  not  effrontery,  it 's  cal- 
culation, God  forgive  her !  They  say  you  are 
sending  her  off  to  Lavriky  ;  is  it  true  ? ' 

'  Yes,  I  am  giving  up  that  property  to  Var- 
vara  Palovna.' 

269 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

'  Has  she  asked  you  for  money  ? ' 

'  Not  yet.' 

'  Well,  that  won't  be  long  in  coming.  But  I 
have  only  now  got  a  look  at  you.  Are  you 
quite  well  ? ' 

*Yes.' 

*  Shurotchka  ! '  cried  Marfa  Timofyevna  sud- 
denly, 'run  and  tell  Lisaveta  Mihalovna, — at 
least,  no,  ask  her  ...  is  she  down-stairs  ? ' 

'  Yes.' 

'  Well,  then  ;  ask  her  where  she  put  my  book  ? 
she  will  know.' 

'  Very  well.' 

The  old  lady  grew  fidgety  again  and  began 
opening  a  drawer  in  the  chest.  Lavretsky  sat 
still  without  stirring  in  his  place. 

All  at  once  light  footsteps  were  heard  on  the 
stairs — and  Lisa  came  in. 

Lavretsky  stood  up  and  bowed ;  Lisa  re- 
mained at  the  door. 

*  Lisa,  Lisa,  darling,'  began  Marfa  Timofyevna 
eagerly,  '  where  is  my  book  ?  where  did  you  put 
my  book  ? ' 

'  What  book,  auntie  ? ' 

'Why,  goodness  me,  that  book!  But  I 
didn't  call  you  though  .  .  There,  it  doesn't 
matter.  What  are  you  doing  down-stairs? 
Here  Fedor  Ivanitch  has  come.  How  is  your 
head  ? ' 

270 


л  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  It 's  nothing.' 

'  You  keep  saying  it 's  nothing.  What  have 
you  going  on  down-stairs — music  ? ' 

'  No — they  are  playing  cards.' 

'  Well,  she 's  ready  for  anything.  Shurotchka, 
I  see  you  want  a  run  in  the  garden — run 
along.' 

'  Oh,  no,  Marfa  Timofyevna.' 

'  Don't  argue,  if  you  please,  run  along.  Nas- 
tasya  Karpovna  has  gone  out  into  the  garden 
all  by  herself;  you  keep  her  company.  You 
must  treat  the  old  with  respect' — Shurotchka 
departed — 'But  where  is  my  cap?  Where  has 
it  got  to  ? ' 

'  Let  me  look  for  it,'  said  Lisa. 

'  Sit  down,  sit  down  ;  I  have  still  the  use  of 
my  legs.     It  must  be  inside  in  my  bedroom.' 

And  flinging  a  sidelong  glance  in  Lavretsky's 
direction,  Marfa  Timofyevna  went  out.  She 
left  the  door  open  ;  but  suddenly  she  came  back 
to  it  and  shut  it. 

Lisa  leant  back  against  her  chair  and  quietly 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  ;  Lavretsky  re- 
mained where  he  was. 

•  This  is  how  we  were  to  meet  again ! '  he 
brought  out  at  last. 

Lisa  took  her  hands  from  her  face. 

'  Yes,'  she  said  faintly :  '  we  were  quickly 
punished/ 

271 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*  Punished/  said  Lavretsky.  ...  *  What  had 
you  done  to  be  punished  ?' 

Lisa  raised  her  eyes  to  him.  There  was 
neither  sorrow  nor  disquiet  expressed  in  them  : 
they  seemed  smaller  and  dimmer.  Her  face 
was  pale  ;  and  pale  too  her  slightly  parted  lips. 

Lavretsky's  heart  shuddered  for  pity  and 
love. 

'  You  wrote  to  me ;  all  is  over/  he  whispered, 
*  yes,  all  is  over — before  it  had  begun.' 

'  We  must  forget  all  that,'  Lisa  brought  out ; 
'  I  am  glad  that  you  have  come ;  I  wanted  to 
write  to  you,  but  it  is  better  so.  Only  we  must 
take  advantage  quickly  of  these  minutes.  It  is 
left  for  both  of  us  to  do  our  duty.  You,  Fedor 
Ivanitch,  must  be  reconciled  with  your  wife.' 

'Lisa!' 

'  I  beg  you  to  do  so ;  by  that  alone  can  we 
expiate  ...  all  that  has  happened.  You  will 
think  about  it — and  will  not  refuse  me.' 

'  Lisa,  for  God's  sake, — you  are  asking  what 
is  impossible.  I  am  ready  to  do  everything 
you  tell  me ;  but  to  be  reconciled  to  her  now ! 
...  I  consent  to  everything,  I  have  forgotten 
everything ;  but  I  cannot  force  my  heart.  .  .  . 
Indeed,  this  is  cruel  ! ' 

*I  do  not  even  ask  of  you,  .  .  .  what  you 
say ;  do  not  live  with  her,  if  you  cannot ;  but 
be  reconciled/  replied  Lisa,  and  again  she  hid 
272 


A  HOUSE  OP^  GENTLEFOLK 

her  eyes  in  her  hand. — '  Remember  your  little 
girl ;  do  it  for  my  sake.' 

'  Very  well,'  Lavretsky  muttered  between  his 
teeth :  *  I  will  do  that,  I  suppose  in  that  I  shall 
fulfil  my  duty.  But  you — what  does  your  duty 
consist  in  ? ' 

'  That  I  know  myself 

Lavretsky  started  suddenly. 

'  You  cannot  be  making  up  your  mind  to 
marry  Panshin  ?  '  he  said. 

Lisa  gave  an  almost  imperceptible  smile. 

'  Oh,  no  ! '  she  said. 

'  Ah,  Lisa,  Lisa ! '  cried  Lavretsky,  '  how 
happy  you  might  have  been  ! ' 

Lisa  looked  at  him  again. 

'  Now  you  see  yourself,  Fedor  Ivanitch, 
that  happiness  does  not  depend  on  us,  but 
on  God.' 

*  Yes,  because  you ' 

The  door  from  the  adjoining  room  opened 
quickly  and  Marfa  Timofyevna  came  in  with  her 
cap  in  her  hand. 

'  I  have  found  it  at  last,'  she  said,  standing 
between  Lavretsky  and  Lisa  ;  '  I  had  laid  it 
down  myself  That's  what  age  does  for  one, 
alack ! — though  youth 's  not  much  better.' 

'  Well,  and  are  you  going  to  Lavriky  yourself 
with  your  wife  ? '  she  added,  turning  to  Lav- 
retsky. 

273  s 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'To  Lavriky  with  her?  I  don't  know,'  he 
said,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

*  You  are  not  going  down-stairs.' 

'  To-day, — no,  I  'm  not' 

'  Well,  well,  you  know  best ;  but  you,  Lisa,  I 
think,  ought  to  go  down.  Ah,  merciful  powers, 
I  have  forgotten  to  feed  my  bullfinch.     There, 

stop   a    minute,    I  '11   soon '      And    Marfa 

Timofyevna  ran  off  without  putting  on  her  cap. 

Lavretsky  walked  quickly  up  to  Lisa. 

'  Lisa,'  he  began  in  a  voice  of  entreaty,  *  we 
are  parting  for  ever,  my  heart  is  torn, — give  me 
your  hand  at  parting.' 

Lisa  raised  her  head,  her  wearied  eyes, 
their  light  almost  extinct,  rested  upon  him.  .  .  . 
'  No,'  she  uttered,  and  she  drew  back  the 
hand  she  was  holding  out.  *  No,  Lavretsky  (it 
was  the  first  time  she  had  used  this  name),  I 
will  not  give  you  my  hand.  What  is  the  good  ? 
Go  away,  I  beseech  you.  You  know  I  love 
you  .  .  .  yes,  I  love  you,'  she  added  with  an 
effort ;  '  but  no  .  .  .  no.' 

She  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips, 

'  Give  me,  at  least,  that  handkerchief.' 

The  door  creaked  .  .  .  the  handkerchief  slid 
on  to  Lisa's  lap.  Lavretsky  snatched  it  before 
it  had  time  to  fall  to  the  floor,  thrust  it  quickly 
into  a  side  pocket,  and  turning  round  met 
Marfa  Timofyevna's  eyes, 
274 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  Lisa,  darling,  I  fancy  your  mother  is  calling 
you,'  the  old  lady  declared. 

Lisa  at  once  got  up  and  went  away. 

Marfa  Timofycvna  sat  down  again  in  her 
corner.     Lavretsky  began  to  take  leave  of  her, 

'Fedor,'  she  said  suddenly. 

'What  is  it?' 

*  Are  you  an  honest  man  ?* 
'What?' 

'  I  ask  you,  are  you  an  honest  man  ? ' 
'  I  hope  so.' 

*  H'm.  But  give  me  your  word  of  honour 
that  you  will  be  an  honest  man.' 

'  Certainly.     But  why  ? ' 

'  I  know  why.  And  you  too,  my  dear  friend, 
if  you  think  well,  you  're  no  fool — will  under- 
stand why  I  ask  it  of  you.  And  now,  good-bye, 
my  dear.  Thanks  for  your  visit  ;  and  remember 
you  have  given  your  word,  Fedya,  and  kiss  me. 
Oh,  my  dear,  it 's  hard  for  you,  I  know  ;  but 
there,  it 's  not  easy  for  any  one.  Once  I  used 
to  envy  the  flies ;  I  thought,  it 's  for  them  it 's 
good  to  be  alive,  but  one  night  I  heard  a  fly 
complaining  in  a  spider's  web — no,  I  think,  they 
too  have  their  troubles.  There's  no  help, 
Fedya;  but  remember  your  promise  all  the 
same.     Good-bye.' 

Lavretsky  went  down  the  back  staircase,  and 
had  reached  the  gates  when  a  man-servant  over- 
took him.  275 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  Marya  Dmitrievna  told  me  to  ask  you  to  go 
in  to  her/  he  commenced  to  Lavretsky. 

'  Tell  her,  my  boy,  that  just  now  I  can't ' 

Fedor  Ivanitch  was  beginning, 

'  Her  excellency  told  me  to  ask  you  very 
particularly,'  continued  the  servant.  *  She  gave 
orders  to  say  she  was  at  home/ 

*  Have  the  visitors  gone  ? '  asked  Lavretsky. 

'Certainly,  sir/  replied  the  servant  with  a 
grin. 

Lavretsky  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
followed  him. 


276 


XLIII 

Marya  Dmitrievna  was  sitting  alone  in  her 
boudoir  in  an  easy-chair,  sniffing  eau  de  cologne) 
a  glass  of  orange-flower-water  was  standing  on 
a  little  table  near  her.  She  was  agitated  and 
seemed  nervous. 

Lavretsky  came  in. 

'  You  wanted  to  see  me,  he  said,  bowing 
coldly. 

'Yes/  replied  Marya  Dmitrievna,  and  she 
sipped  a  little  water  :  'I  heard  that  you  had  gone 
straight  up  to  my  aunt ;  I  gave  orders  that  you 
should  be  asked  to  come  in  ;  I  wanted  to  have 
a  little  talk  with  you.  Sit  down,  please,'  Marya 
Dmitrievna  took  breath.  *  You  know,'  she  went 
on,  '  your  wife  has  come.' 

'  I  was  aware  of  that,'  remarked  Lavretsky. 

*  Well,  then,  that  is,  I  wanted  to  say,  she 
came  to  me,  and  I  received  her ;  that  is  what  I 
wanted  to  explain  to  you,  Fedor  Ivanitch. 
Thank  God  I  have,  I  may  say,  gained  universal 
respect,  and  for  no  consideration  in  the  world 
277 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

would  I  do  anything  improper.  Though  I 
foresaw  that  it  would  be  disagreeable  to  you, 
still  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  deny 
myself  to  her,  Fedor  Ivanitch ;  she  is  a  relation 
of  mine — through  you  ;  put  yourself  in  my 
position,  what  right  had  I  to  shut  my  doors  on 
her — you  will  agree  with  me  ? ' 

*  You  are  exciting  yourself  needlessly,  Marya 
Dmitrievna,'  replied  Lavretsky ;  *  you  acted  very 
well,  I  am  not  angry.  I  have  not  the  least 
intention  of  depriving  Varvara  Pavlovna  of  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  her  friends  ;  I  did  not 
come  in  to  you  to-day  simply  because  I  did  not 
care  to  meet  her — that  was  all.' 

'  Ah,  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  say  that, 
Fedor  Ivanitch,'  cried  Marya  Dmitrievna,  '  but 
I  always  expected  it  of  your  noble  sentiments. 
And  as  for  my  being  excited — that 's  not  to  be 
wondered  at ;  I  am  a  woman  and  a  mother. 
And  your  wife  ...  of  course  I  cannot  judge 
between  you  and  her — as  I  said  to  her  herself ; 
but  she  is  such  a  delightful  woman  that  she 
can  produce  nothing  but  a  pleasant  impression.' 

Lavretsky  gave  a  laugh  and  played  with  his 
hat. 

•  And  this  is  what  I  wanted  to  say  to  you 
besides,  Fedor  Ivanitch,'  continued  Marya 
Dmitrievna,  moving  slightly  nearer  up  to 
him,  '  if  you   had   seen   the    modesty   of  her 

278 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

behaviour,  how  respectful  she  is  !  Really,  it  is 
quite  touching.  And  if  you  had  heard  how  she 
spoke  of  you  !  I  have  been  to  blame  towards 
him,  she  said,  altogether  ;  I  did  not  know  how 
to  appreciate  him,  she  said  ;  he  is  an  angel,  she 
said,  and  not  a  man.  Really,  that  is  what  she 
said — an  angel.  Her  penitence  is  such  .  .  . 
Ah,  upon  my  word,  I  have  never  seen  such 
penitence ! ' 

*  Well,  Marya  Dmitrievna,'  observed  Lav- 
retsky,  '  if  I  may  be  inquisitive :  I  am  told 
that  Varvara  Pavlovna  has  been  singing  in  your 
drawing-room  ;  did  she  sing  during  the  time  of 
her  penitence,  or  how  was  it .-" ' 

'  Ah,  I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed  to  talk 
like  that !  She  sang  and  played  the  piano  only 
to  do  me  a  kindness,  because  I  positively 
entreated,  almost  commanded  her  to  do  so.  I 
saw  that  she  was  sad,  so  sad  ;  I  thought  how 
to  distract  her  mind — and  I  had  heard  that  she 
had  such  marvellous  talent !  I  assure  you, 
Fedor  Ivanitch,  she  is  utterly  crushed,  ask 
Sergei  Petrovitch  even  ;  a  heart-broken  woman, 
tout  a  fait :  what  do  you  say  ? ' 

Lavretsky  only  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

*  And  then  what  a  little  angel  is  that 
Adotchka  of  yours,  what  a  darling!  How 
sweet  she  is,  what  a  clever  little  thing ;  how  she 
speaks  French  ;  and  understands  Russian  too 

279 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

— she  called  me  "auntie"  in  Russian.  And  you 
know  that  as  for  shyness — almost  all  children 
at  her  age  are  shy — there 's  not  a  trace  of  it. 
She 's  so  like  you,  Fedor  Ivanitch,  it 's  amazing. 
The  eyes,  the  forehead — well,  it's  you  over 
again,  precisely  you.  I  am  not  particularly 
fond  of  little  children,  I  must  own  ;  but  I  simply 
lost  my  heart  to  your  little  girl.' 

'  Marya  Dmitrievna,'  Lavretsky  blurted  out 
suddenly,  '  allow  me  to  ask  you  what  is  your 
object  in  talking  to  me  like  this  ? ' 

'  What  object  ? '  Marya  Dmitrievna  sniffed 
her  eau  de  cologne  again,  and  took  a  sip  of 
water.  '  Why,  I  am  speaking  to  you,  Fedor 
Ivanitch,  because — I  am  a  relation  of  yours, 
you  know,  I  take  the  warmest  interest  in  you 
— I  know  your  heart  is  of  the  best.  Listen 
to  me,  топ  cousin.  I  am  at  any  rate  a  woman 
of  experience,  and  I  shall  not  talk  at  random  : 
forgive  her,  forgive  your  wife,'  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna's  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  tears.  *  Only 
think  :  her  youth,  her  inexperience  .  .  .  and 
who  knows,  perhaps,  bad  example;  she  had  not 
a  mother  who  could  bring  her  up  in  the  right 
way.  Forgive  her,  Fedor  Ivanitch,  she  has 
been  punished  enough.' 

The  tears  were  trickling  down  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna's  cheeks  :  she  did  not  wipe  them  away  ; 
she  was  fond  of  weeping.     Lavretsky  sat  as  if 
280 


A   HOUSE   OF  GENTLEFOLK 

on  thorns.  *  Good  God,'  he  thought,  *  what 
torture,  what  a  day  I  have  had  to-day ! ' 

'You  make  no  reply,'  Marya  Dmitrievna 
began  again.  '  How  am  I  to  understand  you  ? 
Can  you  really  be  so  cruel  ?  No,  I  will  not 
believe  it.  I  feel  that  my  words  have  influenced 
you,  Fedor  Ivanitch.  God  reward  you  for  your 
goodness,  and  now  receive  your  wife  from  my 
hands.' 

Involuntarily  Lavretsky  jumped  up  from  his 
chair  ;  Marya  Dmitrievna  also  rose  and  run- 
ning quickly  behind  a  screen,  she  led  forth 
Varvara  Pavlovna.  Pale,  almost  lifeless,  with 
downcast  eyes,  she  seemed  to  have  renounced 
all  thought,  all  will  of  her  own,  and  to  have 
surrendered  herself  completely  to  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna. 

Lavretsky  stepped  back  a  pace. 

'  You  have  been  here  all  the  time  ! '  he  cried. 

'  Do  not  blame  her,'  explained  Marya  Dmit- 
rievna ;  '  she  was  most  unwilling  to  stay,  but 
I  forced  her  to  remain.  I  put  her  behind  the 
screen.  She  assured  me  that  this  would  only 
anger  you  more  ;  I  would  not  even  listen  to 
her  ;  I  know  you  better  than  she  does.  Take 
your  wife  back  from  my  hands  ;  come,  Varya, 
do  not  fear,  fall  at  your  husband's  feet  (she 
gave  a  pull  at  her  arm)  and  my  blessing '  .  .  . 

'  Stop  a  minute,  Marya  Dmitrievna,'  said 
28r 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Lavretsky  in  a  low  but  startlingly  impressive 
voice.  *  I  dare  say  you  are  fond  of  affecting 
scenes '  (Lavretsky  was  right,  Maiya  Dmit- 
rievna  still  retained  her  school-girl's  passion 
for  a  little  melodramatic  effect),  '  they  amuse 
you  ;  but  they  may  be  anything  but  pleasant 
for  other  people.  But  I  am  not  going  to  talk 
to  you  ;  in  this  scene  you  are  not  the  principal 
character.  What  do  you  want  to  get  out  of 
me,  madam?'  he  added,  turning  to  his  wife. 
'  Haven't  I  done  all  I  could  for  you  ?  Don't 
tell  me  you  did  not  contrive  this  interview  ; 
I  shall  not  believe  you — and  you  know  that  I 
cannot  possibly  believe  you.  What  is  it  you 
want  ?  You  are  clever — you  do  nothing  with- 
out an  object.  You  must  realise,  that  as  for 
living  with  you,  as  I  once  lived  with  you,  that 
I  cannot  do  ;  not  because  I  am  angry  with 
you,  but  because  I  have  become  a  different 
man.  I  told  you  so  the  day  after  your  return, 
and  you  yourself,  at  that  moment,  agreed  with 
me  in  your  heart.  But  you  want  to  reinstate 
yourself  in  public  opinion ;  it  is  not  enough  for 
you  to  live  in  my  house,  you  want  to  live  with 
me  under  the  same  roof — isn't  that  it  ? ' 

*  I  want  your  forgiveness,'  pronounced  Var- 
vara  Pavlovna,  not  raising  her  eyes. 

'  She  wants  your  forgiveness,'  repeated  Marya 
Dmitrievna. 

282 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

*And  not  for  my  own  sake,  but  for  Ada's,' 
murmured  Varvara  Pavlovna. 

'  And  not  for  her  own  sake,  but  for  your 
Ada's,'  repeated  Marya  Dmitrievna. 

'Very  good.  Is  that  what  you  want?' 
Lavretsky  uttered  with  an  effort.  '  Certainly,  I 
consent  to  that  too.' 

Varvara  Pavlovna  darted  a  swift  glance  at 
him,  but  Marya  Dmitrievna  cried :  '  There, 
God  be  thanked ! '  and  again  drew  Varvara 
Pavlovna  forward  by  the  arm.  '  Take  her  now 
from  my  arms ' 

'  Stop  a  minute,  I  tell  you,'  Lavretsky  inter- 
rupted her,  '  I  agree  to  live  with  you,  Varvara 
Pavlovna,'  he  continued,  '  that  is  to  say,  I  will 
conduct  you  to  Lavriky,  and  I  will  live  there 
with  you,  as  long  as  I  can  endure  it,  and  then 
I  will  go  away — and  will  come  back  again. 
You  see,  I  do  not  want  to  deceive  you  ;  but  do 
not  demand  anything  more.  You  would  laugh 
yourself  if  I  were  to  carry  out  the  desire  of  our 
respected  cousin,  were  to  press  you  to  my 
breast,  and  to  fall  to  assuring  you  that  .  .  .  that 
the  past  had  not  been  ;  and  the  felled  tree  can 
bud  again.  But  I  see,  I  must  submit.  You 
\v;,l  not  understand  these  words  .  .  .  but  that's 
no  matter.  I  repeat,  I  will  live  with  you  ...  or 
no,  I  cannot  promise  that ...  I  will  be  reconciled 
with  you,  I  will  regard  you  as  my  wife  again.' 
283 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'Give  her,  at  least,  your  hand  on  it,'  observed 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  whose  tears  had  long  since 
dried  up. 

'  I  have  never  deceived  Varvara  Pavlovna 
hitherto/  returned  Lavretsky  ;  '  she  will  believe 
me  without  that.  I  will  take  her  to  Lavriky ;  and 
remember,  Varvara  Pavlovna,  our  treaty  is  to  be 
reckoned  as  broken  directly  you  go  away  from 
Lavriky.     And  now  allow  me  to  take  leave.' 

He  bowed  to  both  the  ladies,  and  hurriedly 
went  away. 

'  Are  you  not  going  to  take  her  with  you ! ' 
Marya  Dmitrievna  cried  after  him.  ...  *  Leave 
him  alone,'  Varvara  Pavlovna  whispered  to  her. 
And  at  once  she  embraced  her,  and  began 
thanking  her,  kissing  her  hands  and  calling  her 
her  saviour. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  received  her  caresses  in- 
dulgently ;  but  at  heart  she  was  discontented 
with  Lavretsky,  with  Varvara  Pavlovna,  and 
with  the  whole  scene  she  had  prepared.  Very 
little  sentimentality  had  come  of  it ;  Varvara 
Pavlovna,  in  her  opinion,  ought  to  have  flung 
herself  at  her  husband's  feet. 

'How  was  it  you  didn't  understand  me?' 
she  commented  :  *  I  kept  saying  "  down." ' 

*  It  is  better  as  it  was,  dear  auntie  ;  do  not 
be  uneasy — it  was  all  for  the  best,'  Varvara 
Pavlovna  assured  her. 

284 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

'  Well,  any  way,  he  's  as  cold  as  ice,'  observed 
Marya  Dmitrievna.  '  You  didn't  weep,  it  is  true, 
but  I  was  in  floods  of  tears  before  his  eyes.  He 
wants  to  shut  you  up  at  Lavriky.  Why,  won't 
you  even  be  able  to  come  and  see  me?  All 
men  are  unfeeling,'  she  concluded,  with  a 
significant  shake  of  the  head. 

'  But  then  women  can  appreciate  goodness 
and  noble-heartedness,'  said  Varvara  Pavlovna, 
and  gently  dropping  on  her  knees  before 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  she  flung  her  arms  about 
her  round  person,  and  pressed  her  face  against 
it.  That  face  wore  a  sly  smile,  but  Marya 
Dmitrievna's  tears  began  to  flow  again. 

When  Lavretsky  returned  home,  he  locked 
himself  in  his  valet's  room,  and  flung  himself 
on  a  sofa  ;  he  lay  like  that  till  morning. 


a85 


1 


XLIV 

The  following  day  was  Sunday.  The  sound  of 
bells  ringing  for  early  mass  did  not  wake 
Lavretsky — he  had  not  closed  his  eyes  all 
night — but  it  reminded  him  of  another  Sunday, 
when  at  Lisa's  desire  he  had  gone  to  church. 
He  got  up  hastily ;  some  secret  voice  told  him 
that  he  would  see  her  there  to-day.  He  went 
noiselessly  out  of  the  house,  leaving  a  message 
for  Varvara  Pavlovna  that  he  would  be  back  to 
dinner,  and  with  long  strides  he  made  his  way 
in  the  direction  in  which  the  monotonously 
mournful  bells  were  calling  him.  He  arrived 
early ;  there  was  scarcely  any  one  in  the  church  ; 
deacon  was  reading  the  service  in  the  choir ; 
the  measured  drone  of  ins  voice — sometimes 
broken  by  a  cough — fell  and  rose  at  even  in- 
tervals. Lavretsky  placed  himself  not  far  from 
the  entrance.  Worshippers  came  in  one  by 
one,  stopped,  crossed  themselves,  and  bowed  in 
all  directions  ;  their  steps  rang  out  in  the  empty, 
silent  church,  echoing  back  distinctly  under  the 
286 


A  HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

arched  roof.  An  infirm  poor  little  old  woman 
in  a  worn-out  cloak  with  a  hood  was  on  her 
knees  near  Lavretsky,  praying  assiduously ; 
her  toothless,  yellow,  wrinkled  face  expressed 
intense  emotion  ;  her  red  eyes  were  gazing 
fixedly  upwards  at  the  holy  figures  on  the 
iconostasis ;  her  bony  hand  was  constantly 
coming  out  from  under  her  cloak,  and  slowly 
and  earnestly  making  a  great  sign  of  the  cross. 
A  peasant  with  a  bushy  beard  and  a  surly 
face,  dishevelled  and  unkempt,  came  into  the 
church,  and  at  once  fell  on  both  knees,  and 
began  directly  crossing  himself  in  haste,  bend- 
ing back  his  head  with  a  shake  after  each 
prostration.  Such  bitter  grief  was  expressed  in 
his  face,  and  in  all  his  actions,  that  Lavretsky 
made  up  his  mind  to  go  up  to  him  and  ask 
him  what  was  wrong.  The  peasant  timidly 
and  morosely  started  back,  looked  at  him.  .  .  . 
*  My  son  is  dead,'  he  articulated  quickly,  and 
again  fell  to  bowing  to  the  earth.  '  What  could 
replace  the  consolations  of  the  Church  to  them  ? ' 
thought  Lavretsky  ;  and  he  tried  himself  to 
pray,  but  his  heart  was  hard  and  heavy,  and 
his  thoughts  were  far  away.  He  kept  expect- 
ing Lisa,  but  Lisa  did  not  come.  The  church 
began  to  be  full  of  people ;  but  still  she  was 
not  there.  The  service  commenced,  the  deacon 
had  already  read  the  gospel,  they  began  ring- 
287 


A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

ing  for  the  last  prayer  ;  Lavretsky  moved  a 
little  forward — and  suddenly  caught  sight  of 
Lisa.  She  had  come  before  him,  but  he  had 
not  seen  her  ;  she  was  hidden  in  a  recess  be- 
tween the  wall  and  the  choir,  and  neither 
moved  nor  looked  round.  Lavretsky  did  not 
take  his  eyes  off  her  till  the  very  end  of  the  ser- 
vice ;  he  was  saying  farewell  to  her.  The  people 
began  to  disperse,  but  she  still  remained  ;  it 
seemed  as  though  she  were  waiting  for  Lav- 
retsky to  go  out.  At  last  she  crossed  herself 
for  the  last  time  and  went  out — there  was  only 
a  maid  with  her — not  turning  round.  Lavretsky 
went  out  of  the  church  after  her  and  overtook 
her  in  the  street ;  she  was  walking  very  quickly, 
with  downcast  head,  and  a  veil  over  her  face. 

'Good-morning,  Lisaveta  Mihalovna,'  he  said 
aloud  with  assumed  carelessness :  *  may  I 
accompany  you  ? ' 

She  made  no  reply ;  he  walked  beside  her. 

'Are  you  content  with  me?'  he  asked  her, 
dropping  his  voice.  *  Have  you  heard  what 
happened  yesterday  ? ' 

'  Yes,  yes,'  she  replied  in  a  whisper,  '  that  was 
well.'     And  she  went  still  more  quickly. 

*  Are  you  content  ?' 

Lisa  only  bent  her  head  in  assent. 

'  Fedor  Ivanitch,'  she  began  in  a  calm  but 
faint  voice,  '  I  wanted  to  beg  you  not  to  come 
288 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

to  see  us  any  more ;  go  away  as  soon  as 
possible,  we  may  see  each  other  again  later — 
sometime — in  a  year.  But  now,  do  this  for  my 
sake  ;  fulfil  my  request,  for  God's  sake.' 

'  I  am  ready  to  obey  you  in  everything 
Lisaveta  Mihalovna  ;  but  are  we  really  to  part 
like  this  .'  will  you  not  say  one  word  to  me  ?  * 

'  Fedor  Ivanitch,  you  are  walking  near  me 
now.  .  .  .  But  already  you  are  so  far  from  me. 
And  not  only  you,  but ' 

'  Speak  out,  I  entreat  you  ! '  cried  Lavretsky, 
'  what  do  you  mean  ? ' 

'You  will  hear,  perhaps  .  .  .  but  whatever  it 
may  be,  forget  .  .  .  no,  do  not  forget ;  remem- 
ber me.' 

'  Me  forget  you ' 

'  That 's  enough,  good-bye.  Do  not  come 
after  me.' 

*  Lisa  ! '  Lavretsky  was  beginning. 

*  Good-bye,  good-bye ! '  she  repeated,  pulling 
her  veil  still  lower  and  almost  running  forward. 
Lavretsky  looked  after  her,  and  with  bowed 
head,  turned  back  along  the  street.  He 
stumbled  up  against  Lemm,  who  was  also  walk- 
ing along  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  his 
hat  pulled  down  to  his  nose. 

They  looked  at  one  another  without  speaking. 
'  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  ? '    Lavretsky 
brought  out  at  last 

289  T 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'  What  have  I  to  say  ? '  returned  Lamm, 
grimly.  '  I  have  nothing  to  say.  All  is  dead, 
and  we  are  dead  {A  lies  ist  todt,  und  wir  sind 
todf).     So  you  're  going  to  the  right,  are  you  ? ' 

'Yes.' 

'  And  I  to  the  left.     Good-bye.' 

The  following  morning  Fedor  Ivanitch  set 
off  with  his  wife  for  Lavriky.  She  drove  in 
front  in  the  carriage  with  Ada  and  Justine  ;  he 
behind,  in  the  coach.  The  pretty  little  girl  did 
not  move  away  from  the  window  the  whole 
journey ;  she  was  astonished  at  everything : 
the  peasants,  the  women,  the  wells,  the  yokes 
over  the  horses'  heads,  the  bells  and  the  flocks 
of  crows.  Justine  shared  her  wonder.  Varvara 
Pavlovna  laughed  at  their  remarks  and  excla- 
mations. She  was  in  excellent  spirits  ;  before 
leaving  the  town,  she  had  come  to  an  explana- 
tion with  her  husband, 

'  I  understand  your  position,'  she  said  to  him, 
and  from  the  look  in  her  subtle  eyes,  he  was 
able  to  infer  that  she  understood  his  position 
fully,  *  but  you  must  do  me,  at  least,  this  justice, 
that  I  am  easy  to  live  with  ;  I  will  not  fetter 
you  or  hinder  you  ;  I  wanted  to  secure  Ada's 
future,  I  want  nothing  more.' 

'  Well,  you  have  obtained  your  object,* 
observed  Fedor  Ivanitch. 

'  I  only  dream  of  one  thing  now :  to  hide 
290 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

myself  for  ever  in  obscurity.  I  shall  remember 
your  goodness  always.' 

*  Enough  of  that/  he  interrupted. 

'  And  I  shall  know  how  to  respect  your  in- 
dependence and  tranquillity/  she  went  on,  com- 
pleting the  phrases  she  had  prepared. 

Lavretsky  made  her  a  low  bow.  Varvara 
Pavlovna  then  believed  her  husband  was  thank- 
ing her  in  his  heart. 

On  the  evening  of  the  next  day  they  reached 
Lavriky  ;  a  week  later,  Lavretsky  set  off  for 
Moscow,  leaving  his  wife  five  thousand  roubles 
for  her  household  expenses  ;  and  the  day  after 
Lavretsky's  departure,  Panshin  made  his  appear- 
ance. Varvara  Pavlovna  had  begged  him  not 
to  forget  her  in  her  solitude.  She  gave  him 
the  best  possible  reception,  and,  till  a  late  hour 
of  the  night,  the  lofty  apartments  of  the  house 
and  even  the  garden  re-echoed  with  the  sound 
of  music,  singing,  and  lively  French  talk.  For 
three  days  Varvara  Pavlovna  entertained  Pan- 
shin  ;  when  he  took  leave  of  her,  warmly  press- 
ing her  lovely  hands,  he  promised  to  come  back 
very  soon — and  he  kept  his  word. 


201 


XLV 

Lisa  had  a  room  to  herself  on  the  second  story 
of  her  mother's  house,  a  clean  bright  little  room 
with  a  little  white  bed,  with  pots  of  flowers  in 
the  corners  and  before  the  windows,  a  small 
writing-table,  a  book-stand,  and  a  crucifix  on 
the  wall.  It  was  always  called  the  nursery  ; 
Lisa  had  been  born  in  it.  When  she  returned 
from  the  church  where  she  had  seen  Lavretsky 
she  set  everything  in  her  room  in  order  more 
carefully  than  usual,  dusted  it  everywhere, 
looked  through  and  tied  up  with  ribbon  all  her 
copybooks,  and  the  letters  of  her  girl-friends, 
shut  up  all  the  drawers,  watered  the  flowers  and 
caressed  every  blossom  with  her  hand.  All 
this  she  did  without  haste,  noiselessly,  with 
a  kind  of  rapt  and  gentle  solicitude  on  her 
face.  She  stopped  at  last  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  slowly  looked  round,  and  going  up  to  the 
table  above  which  the  crucifix  was  hanging,  she 
fell  on  her  knees,  dropped  her  head  on  to  her 
clasped  hands  and  remained  motionless. 
292 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

Marfa  Timofyevna  came  in  and  found  her  in 
this  position.  Lisa  did  not  observe  her  entrance. 
The  old  lady  stepped  out  on  tip-toe  and 
coughed  loudly  several  times  outside  the  door. 
Lisa  rose  quickly  and  wiped  her  eyes,  which 
were  bright  with  unshed  tears. 

'  Ah  !  I  see,  you  have  been  setting  your  cell 
to  rights  again,'  observed  Marfa  Timofyevna, 
and  she  bent  low  over  a  young  rose-tree  in  a 
pot ;  '  how  nice  it  smells  ! ' 

Lisa  looked  thoughtfully  at  her  aunt. 

'  How  strange  you  should  use  that  word  ! ' 
she  murmured. 

*  What  word,  eh  ? '  the  old  lady  returned 
quickly.  *  What  do  you  mean  ?  This  is 
horrible,'  she  began,  suddenly  flinging  off  her 
cap  and  sitting  down  on  Lisa's  little  bed  :  '  it  is 
more  than  I  can  bear !  this  is  the  fourth  day 
now  that  I  have  been  boiling  over  inside ;  I 
can't  pretend  not  to  notice  any  longer ;  I  can't 
see  you  getting  pale,  and  fading  away,  and 
weeping,  I  can't,  I  can't ! ' 

'  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  auntie  ? '  said  Lisa, 
'  it 's  nothing.' 

'  Nothing  ! '  cried  Marfa  Timofyevna  ;  '  you 
may  tell  that  to  others  but  not  to  me.  Nothing, 
who  was  on  her  knees  just  this  minute?  and 
whose  eyelashes  are  still  wet  with  tears  ? 
Nothing,  indeed  !  why,  look  at  yourself,  what 
393 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

have  you  done  with  your  face,  what  has  become 
of  your  eyes  ? — Nothing  !  do  you  suppose  I 
don't  know  all  ? 

'  It  will  pass  off,  auntie  ;  give  me  time.' 

'  It  will  pass  off,  but  when  ?  Good  God ! 
Merciful  Saviour !  can  you  have  loved  him  like 
this  ?  why,  he 's  an  old  man,  Lisa,  darling. 
There,  I  don't  dispute  he 's  a  good  fellow,  no 
harm  in  him ;  but  what  of  that?  we  are  all  good 
people,  the  world  is  not  so  small,  there  will  be 
always  plenty  of  that  commodity.' 

'  I  tell  you,  it  will  all  pass  away,  it  has  all 
passed  away  already.' 

'  Listen,  Lisa,  darling,  what  I  am  going  to 
say  to  you,'  Marfa  Timofyevna  said  suddenly, 
making  Lisa  sit  beside  her,  and  straightening 
her  hair  and  her  neckerchief  '  It  seems  to 
you  now  in  the  midst  of  the  worst  of  it  that 
nothing  can  ever  heal  your  sorrow.  Ah,  my 
darling,  the  only  thing  that  can't  be  cured  is 
death.  You  only  say  to  yourself  now:  "  I 
won't  give  in  to  it — so  there  ! "  and  you  will 
be  surprised  yourself  how  soon,  how  easily  it 
will  pass  off.     Only  have  patience.' 

*  Auntie/  returned  Lisa,  '  it  has  passed  off 
already,  it  is  all  over.' 

'  Passed  !  how  has  it  passed  ?    Why,  your  poor 
little  nose  has  grown  sharp  already  and  you  say 
it  is  over.     A  fine  way  of  getting  over  it ! ' 
294 


A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

'  Yes,  it  is  over,  auntie,  if  you  will  only  try  to 
help  me,'  Lisa  declared  with  sudden  animation, 
and  she  flung  herself  on  Marfa  Timofyevna's 
neck.  '  Dear  auntie,  be  a  friend  to  me,  help 
me,  don't  be  angry,  understand  me '  .  .  . 

*  Why,  what  is  it,  what  is  it,  my  good  girl  ? 
Don't  terrify  me,  please  ;  I  shall  scream  directly  ; 
don't  look  at  me  like  that ;  tell  me  quickly  what 
is  it  ? ' 

'  I — I  want,'  Lisa  hid  her  face  on  Marfa  Tim- 
ofyevna's bosom,  '  I  want  to  go  into  a  convent,' 
she  articulated  faintly. 

The  old  lady  almost  bounded  off  the  bed. 

'  Cross  yourself,  my  girl,  Lisa,  dear,  think 
what  you  are  saying  ;  what  are  you  thinking  of? 
God  have  mercy  on  you ! '  she  stammered  at  last. 
'  Lie  down,  my  darling,  sleep  a  little,  all  this 
comes  from  sleeplessness,  my  dearie.' 

Lisa  raised  her  head,  her  cheeks  were  glow- 
ing. 

'  No,  auntie,'  she  said,  *  don't  speak  like  that ; 
I  have  made  up  my  mind,  I  prayed,  I  asked 
counsel  of  God  ;  all  is  at  an  end,  my  life  with 
you  is  at  an  end.  Such  a  lesson  was  not  for 
nothing  ;  and  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have 
thought  of  it.  Happiness  was  not  for  me  ;  even 
when  I  had  hopes  of  happiness,  my  heart  was 
always  heavy.  I  knew  all  my  own  sins  and 
those  of  others,  and  how  papa  made  our  fortune; 
295 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

I  know  it  all.  For  all  that  there  must  be  expia- 
tion. I  am  sorry  for  you,  sorry  for  mamma, 
for  Lenotchka  ;  but  there  is  no  help ;  I  feel 
that  there  is  no  living  here  for  me;  I  have 
taken  leave  of  all,  I  have  greeted  everything  in 
the  house  for  the  last  time  ;  something  calls  to 
me  ;  I  am  sick  at  heart,  I  want  to  hide  myself 
away  for  ever.  Do  not  hinder  me,  do  not  dis- 
suade me,  help  me,  or  else  I  must  go  away  alone.' 

Marfa  Timofyevna  listened  to  her  niece  with 
horror. 

'  She  is  ill,  she  is  raving,'  she  thought :  *  we 
must  send  for  a  doctor  ;  but  for  which  one  ? 
Gedeonovsky  was  praising  one  the  other  day  ; 
he  always  tells  lies — but  perhaps  this  time  he 
spoke  the  truth.'  But  when  she  was  convinced 
that  Lisa  was  not  ill,  and  was  not  raving,  when 
she  constantly  made  the  same  answer  to  all  her 
expostulations,  Marfa  Timofyevna  was  alarmed 
and  distressed  in  earnest.  '  But  you  don't 
know,  my  darling,'  she  began  to  reason  with 
her,  '  what  a  life  it  is  in  those  convents ! 
Wh}^,  they  would  feed  you,  my  own,  on  green 
hemp  oil,  and  they  would  put  you  in  the  coarsest 
coarsest  linen,  and  make  you  go  about  in  the 
cold  ;  you  will  never  be  able  to  bear  all  that, 
Lisa,  darling.  All  this  is  Agafya's  doing  ;  she 
led  you  astray.  But  then  you  know  she  began 
by  living  and  lived  for  her  own  pleasure ;  you 
296 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

must  live  too.  At  least,  let  me  die  in  peace, 
and  then  do  as  you  like.  And  who  has  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing,  for  the  sake  of  such  a — 
for  the  sake  of  a  goat's  beard,  God  forgive  us ! 
— for  the  sake  of  a  man — to  go  into  a  convent! 
Why,  if  you  are  so  sick  at  heart,  go  on  a  pil- 
grimage, offer  prayers  to  some  saint,  have  a  Те 
Deum  sung,  but  don't  put  the  black  hood  on 
your  head,  my  dear  creature,  my  good  girl.' 

And  Marfa  Timofyevna  wept  bitterly. 

Lisa  comforted  her,  wiped  away  her  tears 
and  wept  herself,  but  remained  unshaken.  In 
her  despair  Marfa  Timofyevna  had  recourse  to 
threats :  to  tell  her  mother  all  about  it  .  .  .  but 
that  too  was  of  no  avail.  Only  at  the  old  lady's 
most  earnest  entreaties  Lisa  agreed  to  put  off 
carrying  out  her  plan  for  six  months.  Marfa 
Timofyevna  was  obliged  to  promise  in  return 
that  if,  within  six  months,  she  did  not  change 
her  mind,  she  would  herself  help  her  and  would 
do  all  she  could  to  gain  Marya  Dmitrievna's 
consent. 

In  spite  of  her  promise  to  bury  herself  in 
seclusion,  at  the  first  approach  of  cold  weather, 
Varvara  Pavlovna,  having  provided  herself  with 
funds,  removed  to  Petersburg,  where  she  took  a 
modest  but  charming  set  of  apartments,  found 

for  her  by  Panshin,  who  had  left  the  О 

district  a  little  before.  During  the  later  part  of 
297 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

his   residence   in  О he   had   completely 

lost  Marya  Dmitrievna's  good  graces ;  he  had 
suddenly  given  up  visiting  her  and  scarcely 
stirred  from  Lavriky.  Varvara  Pavlovna  had 
enslaved  him,  literally  enslaved  him,  no  other 
word  can  describe  her  boundless,  irresistible, 
unquestioned  sway  over  him. 

Lavretsky  spent  the  winter  in  Moscow  ;  and 
in  the  spring  of  the  following  year  the  news 
reached  him  that  Lisa  had  taken  the  veil  in 

the  В convent,  in  one  of  the  remote  parts 

of  Russia. 


298 


EPILOGUE 

Eight  years  had  passed  by.  Once  more  the 
spring  had  come.  .  .  .  But  we  will  say  a  few 
words  first  of  the  fate  of  Mihalevitch,  Panshin, 
and  Madame  Lavretsky — and  then  take  leave  of 
them.  Mihalevitch,  after  long  wanderings,  has 
at  last  fallen  in  with  exactly  the  right  work  for 
him  ;  he  has  received  the  position  of  senior 
superintendent  of  a  government  school.  He  is 
very  well  content  with  his  lot ;  his  pupils  adore 
him,  though  they  mimick  him  too.  Panshin  has 
gained  great  advancement  in  rank,  and  already 
has  a  directorship  in  view  ;  he  walks  with  a 
slight  stoop,  caused  doubtless  by  the  weight 
round  his  neck  of  the  Vladimir  cross  which  has 
been  conferred  on  him.  The  official  in  him  has 
finally  gained  the  ascendency  over  the  artist ; 
his  still  youngish  face  has  grown  yellow,  and  his 
hair  scanty  ;  he  now  neither  sings  nor  sketches, 
but  applies  himself  in  secret  to  literature ;  he 
has  written  a  comedy,  in  the  style  of  a  '  proverb,' 
and  as  nowadays  all  writers  have  to  draw  a 
299 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

portrait  of  some  one  or  something,  he  has  drawn 
in  it  the  portrait  of  a  coquette,  and  he  reads  it 
privately  to  two  or  three  ladies  who  look 
kindly  upon  him.  He  has,  however,  not  entered 
upon  matrimony,  though  many  excellent  oppor- 
tunities of  doing  so  have  presented  themselves. 
For  this  Varvara  Pavlovna  was  responsible.  As 
for  her,  she  lives  constantly  at  Paris,  as  in  former 
days.  Fedor  Ivanitch  has  given  her  a  promis- 
sory note  for  a  large  sum,  and  has  so  secured 
immunity  from  the  possibility  of  her  making 
a  second  sudden  descent  upon  him.  She  has 
grown  older  and  stouter,  but  is  still  charming 
and  elegant.  Every  one  has  his  ideal.  Varvara 
Pavlovna  found  hers  in  the  dramatic  works  of 
M.  Dumas  Fils.  She  diligently  frequents  the 
theatres,  when  consumptive  and  sentimental 
'dames  aux  camelias'  are  brought  on  the  stage; 
to  be  Madame  Doche  seems  to  her  the  height 
of  human  bliss  ;  she  once  declared  that  .she  did 
not  desire  a  better  fate  for  her  own  daughter. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  fate  will  spare  Mademoi- 
selle Ada  from  such  happiness  ;  from  a  rosy- 
cheeked,  chubby  child  she  has  turned  into  a 
weak-chested,  pale  girl  ;  her  nerves  are  already 
deranged.  The  number  of  Varvara  Pavlovna's 
adorers  has  diminished,  but  she  still  has  some  ; 
a  few  she  will  probably  retain  to  the  end  of  her 
days.  The  most  ardent  of  them  in  these  laterdays 
300 


A  HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

is  a  certain  Zakurdalo-Skubirnikov,  a  retired 
guardsman,  a  full-bearded  man  of  thirty-eight, 
of  exceptionally  vigorous  physique.  The 
French  habitues  of  Madame  Lavretsky's  salon 
call  him  "  le  gros  taureau  de  Г  Ukraine ; '  Varvara 
Palovna  never  invites  him  to  her  fashionable 
evening  reunions,  but  he  is  in  the  fullest  enjoy- 
ment of  her  favours. 

And  so — eight  years  have  passed  by.  Once 
more  the  breezes  of  spring  breathed  brightness 
and  rejoicing  from  the  heavens ;  once  more 
spring  was  smiling  upon  the  earth  and  upon 
men  ;  once  more  under  her  caresses  everything 
was  turning  to  blossom,  to  love,  to  song.     The 

town  of  О had  undergone  little  change  in 

the  course  of  these  eight  years ;  but  Marfa 
Dmitrievna's  house  seemed  to  have  grown 
younger ;  its  freshly-painted  walls  gave  a 
bright  welcome,  and  the  panes  of  its  open 
windows  were  crimson,  shining  in  the  setting 
sun  ;  from  these  windows  the  light  merry 
sound  of  ringing  young  voices  and  continual 
laughter  floated  into  the  street ;  the  whole 
house  seemed  astir  with  life  and  brimming  over 
with  gaiety.  The  lady  of  the  house  herself  had 
long  been  in  her  tomb  ;  Marya  Dmitrievna  had 
died  two  years  after  Lisa  took  the  veil,  and 
Marfa  Timofyevna  had  not  long  survived  her 
niece  ;  they  lay  side  by  side  in  the  cemetery  of 
30  i 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

the  town.  Nastasya  Karpovna  too  was  no 
more  ;  for  several  years  the  faithful  old  woman 
had  gone  every  week  to  say  a  prayer  over 
her  friend's  ashes.  .  .  .  Her  time  had  come,  and 
now  her  bones  too  lay  in  the  damp  earth.  But 
Marya  Dmitrievna's  house  had  not  passed  into 
strangers'  hands,  it  had  not  gone  out  of  her 
family,  the  home  had  not  been  broken  up. 
Lenotchka,  transformed  into  a  slim,  beautiful 
young  girl,  and  her  betrothed  lover — a  fair- 
haired  officer  of  hussars  ;  Marya  Dmitrievna's 
son,  who  had  just  been  married  in  Petersburg 
and    had  come  with   his   young   wife   for  the 

spring  to  О ;  his  wife's  sister,  a  school-girl 

of  sixteen,  with  glowing  cheeks  and  bright 
eyes ;  Shurotchka,  grown  up  and  also  pretty, 
made  up  the  youthful  household,  whose  laughter 
and  talk  set  the  walls  of  the  Kalitins'  house 
resounding.  Everything  in  the  house  was 
changed,  everything  was  in  keeping  with  its 
new  inhabitants.  Beardless  servant  lads,  grin 
ning  and  full  of  fun,  had  replaced  the  sober  old 
servants  of  former  days.  Two  setter  dogs 
dashed  wildly  about  and  gambolled  over  the 
sofas,  where  the  fat  Roska  had  at  one  time 
waddled  in  solemn  dignity.  The  stables  were 
filled  with  slender  racers,  spirited  carriage 
horses,  fiery  out-riders  with  plaited  manes,  and 
riding  horses  from  the  Don.  The  breakfast, 
302 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

dinner,  and  supper-hours  were  all  in  confusion 
and  disorder ;  in  the  words  of  the  neighbours, 
*  unheard-of  arrangements '  were  made. 

On  the  evening  of  which  we  are  speaking,  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Kalitins'  house  (the  eldest  of 
them,  Lenotchka's  betrothed,  was  only  twenty- 
four)  were  engaged  in  a  game,  which,  though 
not  of  a  very  complicated  nature,  was,  to  judge 
from  their  merry  laughter,  exceedingly  enter- 
taining to  them  ;  they  were  running  about  the 
rooms,  chasing  one  another  ;  the  dogs,  too,  were 
running  and  barking,  and  the  canaries,  hanging 
in  cages  above  the  windows,  were  straining  their 
throats  in  rivalry  and  adding  to  the  general  up- 
roar by  the  shrill  trilling  of  their  piercing  notes. 
At  the  very  height  of  this  deafening  merry- 
making a  mud-bespattered  carriage  stopped  at 
the  gate,  and  a  man  of  five-and-forty,  in  a 
travelling  dress,  stepped  out  of  it  and  stood  still 
in  amazement.  He  stood  a  little  time  without 
stirring,  watching  the  house  with  attentive  eyes; 
then  went  through  the  little  gate  in  the  court- 
yard, and  slowly  mounted  the  steps.  In  the 
hall  he  met  no  one  ;  but  the  door  of  a  room 
was  suddenly  flung  open,  and  out  of  it  rushed 
Shurotchka,  flushed  and  hot,  and  instantly,  with 
a  ringing  shout,  all  the  young  party  in  pursuit 
of  her.  They  stopped  short  at  once  and  were 
quiet  at  the  sight  of  a  stranger  ;  but  their 
303 


л   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

clear  eyes  fixed  on  him  wore  the  same  friendly 
expression,  and  their  fresh  faces  were  still  smil- 
ing as  Marya  Dmitrievna's  son  went  up  to  the 
visitor  and  asked  him  cordially  what  he  could 
do  for  him. 

*  I  am  Lavretsky/  replied  the  visitor. 

He  was  answered  by  a  shout  in  chorus — and 
not  because  these  young  people  were  greatly 
delighted  at  the  arrival  of  a  distant,  almost 
forgotten  relation,  but  simply  because  they  were 
ready  to  be  delighted  and  make  a  noise  at  every 
opportunity.  They  surrounded  Lavretsky  at 
once  ;  Lenotchka,  as  an  old  acquaintance,  was 
the  first  to  mention  her  own  name,  and  assured 
him  that  in  a  little  while  she  would  have  cer- 
tainly recognised  him.  She  presented  him  to 
the  rest  of  the  party,  calling  each,  even  her 
betrothed,  by  their  pet  names.  They  all  trooped 
through  the  dining-room  into  the  drawing- 
room.  The  walls  of  both  rooms  had  been  re- 
papered  ;  but  the  furniture  remained  the  same. 
Lavretsky  recognised  the  piano  ;  even  the  em- 
broidery-frame in  the  window  was  just  the  same, 
and  in  the  same  position,  and  it  seemed  with 
the  same  unfinished  embroidery  on  it,  as  eight 
years  ago.  They  made  him  sit  down  in  a  com- 
fortable arm-chair  ;  all  sat  down  politely  in  a 
circle  round  him.  Questions, exclamations,  and 
anecdotes  followed. 

304 


л   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

'It's  a  long  time  since  we  have  seen  you,' 
observed  Lenotchka  simply, '  and  Varvara  Pav- 
lovna  we  have  seen  nothing  of  either.' 

'  Well,  no  wonder  ! '  her  brother  hastened  to 
interpose.  '  I  carried  you  off  to  Petersburg,  and 
Fedor  Ivanitch  has  been  living  all  the  time  in 
the  country.' 

'  Yes,  and  mamma  died  soon  after  then.' 

'  And  Marfa  Timofyevna,'  observed  Shur- 
otchka. 

'  And  Nastasya  Karpovna,'  added  Lenotchka, 
'  and  Monsieur  Lemm.' 

'  What  ?  is  Lemm  dead  ? '  inquired  Lavretsky. 

'  Yes,'  replied  young  Kalitin,  '  he  left  here  for 
Odessa  ;  they  say  some  one  enticed  him  there ; 
and  there  he  died.' 

*  You  don't  happen  to  know, .  . .  did  he  leave 
any  music  ? ' 

*  I  don't  know  ;  not  very  likely.' 

All  were  silent  and  looked  about  them.  A 
slight  cloud  of  melancholy  flitted  over  all  the 
young  faces. 

'  But  Matross  is  alive,'  said  Lenotchka  sud- 
denly. 

'  And  Gedeonovsky,'  added  her  brother. 

At  Gedeonovsky's  name  a  merry  laugh  broke 
out  at  once. 

'  Yes,  he  is  alive,  and  as  great  a  liar  as  ever,' 
Marya  Dmitrievna's  son  continued  ;  '  and  only 
v>4  и 


A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

fancy,  yesterday  this  madcap ' — pointing  to  the 
school-girl,  his  wife's  sister — *  put  some  pepper 
in  his  snuff-box/ 

'  How  he  did  sneeze!'  cried  Lenotchka,  and 
again  there  was  a  burst  of  unrestrained  laughter. 

'  We  have  had  news  of  Lisa  lately,'  observed 
young  Kalitin,  and  again  a  hush  fell  upon  all ; 
there  was  good  news  of  her ;  she  is  recovering 
her  health  a  little  now.' 

*  She  is  still  in  the  same  convent?'  Lavretsky 
asked,  not  without  some  effort. 

'  Yes,  still  in  the  same.' 
'  Does  she  write  to  you  ?  * 

*  No,  never  ;  but  we  get  news  through  other 
people. 

A  sudden  and  profound  silence  followed.  '  A 
good  angel  is  passing  over,'  all  were  thinking. 

'  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  into  the  garden  ? ' 
said  Kalitin,  turning  to  Lavretsky  ;  '  it  is  very 
nice  now,  though  we  have  let  it  run  wild  a 
little.' 

Lavretsky  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  the 
first  thing  that  met  his  eyes  was  the  very  garden 
seat  on  which  he  had  once  spent  with  Lisa  those 
few  blissful  moments,  never  repeated  ;  it  had 
grown  black  and  warped  ;  but  he  recognised  it, 
and  his  soul  was  filled  with  that  emotion,  un- 
equalled for  sweetness  and  for  bitterness — the 

emotion  of  keen  sorrow  for  vanished  youth,  for 

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л    HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

the  happiness  which  has  once  been  possessed. 
He  walked  along  the  avenues  with  the  young 
people  ;  the  lime-trees  looked  hardly  older  or 
taller  in  the  eight  years,  but  their  shade  was 
thicker  ;  on  the  other  hand,  all  the  bushes  had 
sprung  up,  the  raspberry  bushes  had  grown 
strong,  the  hazels  were  a  tangled  thicket,  and 
from  all  sides  rose  the  fresh  scent  of  the  trees 
and  grass  and  lilac. 

*  This  would  be  a  nice  place  for  Puss-in-the- 
Corner,'  cried  Lenotchka  suddenly,  as  they 
came  upon  a  small  green  lawn,  surrounded  by 
lime-trees,  '  and  we  are  just  five,  too.' 

'  Have  you  forgotten  Fedor  Ivanitch  ? '  replied 
her  brother,  ...  *  or  didn't  you  count  yourself?' 

Lenotchka  blushed  slightly. 

'  But  would  Fedor  Ivanitch,  at  his  age * 

she  began. 

'  Please,  play  your  games,'  Lavretsky  hastened 
to  interpose  ;  '  don't  pay  attention  to  me.  I  shall 
be  happier  myself,  when  I  am  sure  I  am  not  in 
your  way.  And  there 's  no  need  for  you  to 
entertain  me  ;  we  old  fellows  have  an  occupation 
which  you  know  nothing  of  yet,  and  which  no 
amusement  can  replace — our  memories.' 

The  young  people  listened  to  Lavretsky  with 
polite,  but  rather  ironical  respect — as  though  a 
teacher  were  giving  them  a  lesson — and  sud- 
denly they  all  dispersed,  and  ran  to  the  lawn  ; 
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л   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

four  stood  near  trees,  one  in  the  middle,  and 
the  game  began. 

And  Lavretsky  went  back  into  the  house, 
went  into  the  dining-room,  drew  near  the  piano 
and  touched  one  of  the  keys  ;  it  gave  out  a 
faint  but  clear  sound  ;  on  that  note  had  begun 
the  inspired  melody  with  which  long  ago  on 
that  same  happy  night  Lemm,  the  dead  Lemm, 
had  thrown  him  into  such  transports.  Then 
Lavretsky  went  into  the  drawing-room,  and  for 
a  long  time  he  did  not  leave  it  ;  in  that  room 
where  he  had  so  often  seen  Lisa,  her  image  rose 
most  vividly  before  him  ;  he  seemed  to  feel  the 
traces  of  her  presence  round  him  ;  but  his  grief 
for  her  was  crushing,  not  easy  to  bear  ;  it  had 
none  of  the  peace  which  comes  with  death. 
Lisa  still  lived  somewhere,  hidden  and  afar  ;  he 
thought  of  her  as  of  the  living,  but  he  did  not 
recognise  the  girl  he  had  once  loved  in  that  dim 
pale  shadow,  cloaked  in  a  nun's  dress  and  en- 
circled in  misty  clouds  of  incense.  Lavretsky 
would  not  have  recognised  himself,  could  he 
have  looked  at  himself,  as  mentally  he  looked 
at  Lisa.  In  the  course  of  these  eight  years  he 
had  passed  that  turning-point  in  life,  which 
many  never  pass,  but  without  which  no  one 
can  be  a  good  man  to  the  end  ;  he  had  really 
ceased  to  think  of  his  own  happiness,  of  his 
personal  aims.  He  had  grown  calm,  and — why 
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A   HOUSE  OF  GENTLEFOLK 

hide  the  truth  ? — he  had  grown  old  not  only  in 
face  and  in  body,  he  had  grown  old  in  heart ;  to 
keep  a  young  heart  up  to  old  age,  as  some  say, 
is  not  only  difficult,  but  almost  ridiculous  ;  he 
may  well  be  content  who  has  not  lost  his  belief 
in  goodness,  his  steadfast  will,  and  his  zeal  for 
work.  Lavretsky  had  good  reason  to  be  content; 
he  had  become  actually  an  excellent  farmer, 
he  had  really  learnt  to  cultivate  the  land,  and 
his  labours  were  not  only  for  himself ;  he  had, 
to  the  best  of  his  powers,  secured  on  a  firm  basis 
the  welfare  of  his  peasants. 

Lavretsky  went  out  of  the  house  into  the 
garden,  and  sat  down  on  the  familiar  garden 
seat.  And  on  this  loved  spot,  facing  the  house 
where  for  the  last  time  he  had  vainly  stretched 
out  his  hand  for  the  enchanted  cup  which  frothed 
and  sparkled  with  the  golden  wine  of  delight, 
he,  a  solitary  homeless  wanderer,  looked  back 
upon  his  life,  while  the  joyous  shouts  of  the 
younger  generation  who  were  already  filling  his 
place  floated  across  the  garden  to  him.  His 
heart  was  sad,  but  not  weighed  down,  nor 
bitter  ;  much  there  was  to  regret,  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of. 

'  Play  away,  be  gay,  grow  strong,  vigorous 
youth  !  he  thought,  and  there  was  no  bitter- 
ness in  his  meditations  ;  '  your  life  is  before 
you,  and  for  you  life  will  be  easier  ;  you  have 
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A   HOUSE   OF   GENTLEFOLK 

nut,  as  we  had,  to  find  out  a  path  for  yourselves, 
to  struggle,  to  fall,  and  to  rise  again  in  the  dark; 
we  had  enough  to  do  to  last  out — and  how  many 
of  us  did  not  last  out  ? — but  you  need  only  do 
your  duty,  work  away,  and  the  blessing  of  an 
old  man  be  with  you.  For  me,  after  to-day, 
after  these  emotions,  there  remains  to  take 
my  leave  at  last, — and  though  sadly,  without 
envy,  without  any  dark  feelings,  to  say,  in  sight 
of  the  end,  in  sight  of  God  who  awaits  me: 
"  Welcome,  lonely  old  age !  burn  out,  useless 
life!"' 

Lavretsky  quietly  rose  and  quietly  went 
away  ;  no  one  noticed  him,  no  one  detained 
him  ;  the  joyous  cries  sounded  more  loudly  in 
the  garden  behind  the  thick  green  wall  of  high 
lime-trees.  He  took  his  seat  in  the  carriage 
and  bade  the  coachman  drive  home  and  not 
hurry  the  horses. 

*  And  the  end?'  perhaps  the  dissatisfied 
reader  will  inquire.  *  What  became  of  Lavretsky 
afterwards,  and  of  Lisa  .-' '  But  what  is  there  to 
tell  of  people  who,  though  still  alive,  have  with- 
drawn from  the  battlefield  of  life  .<*  They  say, 
Lavretsky  visited  that  remote  convent  where 
Lisa  had  hidden  herself — that  he  saw  her. 
Crossing  over  from  choir  to  choir,  she  walked 
close  past  him,  moving  with  the  even,  hurried, 
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A   HOUSE  OF   GENTLEFOLK 

but  meek  walk  of  a  nun ;  and  she  did  not 
glance  at  him  ;  only  the  eyelashes  on  the  side 
towards  him  quivered  a  little,  only  she  bent  her 
emaciated  face  lower,  and  the  fingers  of  her 
clasped  hands,  entwined  with  her  rosary,  were 
pressed  still  closer  to  one  another.  What  were 
they  both  thinking,  what  were  they  feeling? 
Who  can  know  ?  who  can  say  ?  There  are  such 
moments  in  life,  there  are  such  feelings  .  .  .  One 
can  but  point  to  them — and  pass  them  by. 


THE  END 


S" 


Printed  by  Т.  and  Л.  Comstadi.k,  Printers  to  His  Majesty, 

at  the  ]CilInbnr2ii  University  Press 


/^^/•^^ 


V  '- 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  302  099    5 

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Lr  .-  1,  ,j/: 

OCT  0  2  77 

MAY  1 4  1979 

JUN  14  ГМ 

тог-? 

TO  REM*  / 

m- 

—My 


